


Dreamer of Pictures

by WillowEdmond



Series: Cinnamon Girl [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowEdmond/pseuds/WillowEdmond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you nervous?" Seth asked.<br/>"A little," Roman admitted. "I mean, all I know her name is Cinnamon Nolan, she dated Dean, She went to college on a scholarship for one year, but dropped out after she and Dean broke up. And that she moved to West Virginia, to this very house, whose driveway we are parked in right this second."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental.**

As Roman looked at the neat little ranch house, he was unable to suppress a grin. After over a year of looking, they had found her, the Elusive One, as she had come to be nicknamed by himself and his fiance.

"Are you nervous?"

He looked over in the passenger's seat, where Seth, his former partner in Shield was unbuckling his seat belt. "A little," he admitted. "I don't know anything about this girl, except from what Dean told us and what Jessica found out, when she took over our search." He unbuckled his own seat belt and removed the keys from the ignition. "I know her name is Cinnamon Nolan, she dated Dean somewhere back in 2004 to 2005. She went to college on a scholarship for one year, but dropped out after she and Dean broke up. And that she moved to West Virginia, to this very house, whose driveway we are parked in right this second."

"Yep," Seth said, nodding. "And now we go and see her...and let her know about Dean. And possibly about the dog."

The dog. That was the rub of the whole situation. Apparently, at least from Dean's point of view, he and Cinnamon had an almost perfect relationship, with only one big bone of contention, Cinnamon's dog, a boxer named Rocky. According to Dean, Rocky had been a rescue from a puppy mill and the early beginning had lead to a dog who constantly barked, howled, and in general, acted insecure. Normally, Cinnamon was so indulgent that she never really even noticed her dog was, as Dean had put it, "A total pain in the ass." But, when her exams came, Rocky's habit of waking her up several times a night, just because he was barking, started taking its toll.

Exhausted from both exams and being kept up half the night by a nervous dog, Cinnamon had made a huge mistake and left chicken bones in a place where Rocky found them. Dean had been the one to discover the dog after Cinnamon had gone to her school library to study and fallen asleep instead. And when Dean found the dog, poor Rocky had paid the ultimate price for his stupidity, a bone had punctured his throat and he was past the point of being saved.

So, Dean had shot the dog. Possibly to put him out of his misery, although it wasn't known if that was necessary, but also so he could tell her the truth, that he had shot the dog, although he still had to lie about his reasons. Cinnamon had lost her parents two years previous in an accident that wasn't her fault, but she had been driving, and Dean knew she felt responsible, even if she was blameless. He knew if she found out it was her stupidity and neglect that had killed Rocky, he was afraid she'd go off the deep end. So, he had shot the dog, told her that he had done it because the stupid dog kept her awake at night. His idea worked, she believed him, but, as he also knew, she told him to get out of her life. He had done as she requested and except for a promo he had shot where he talked about shooting his girlfriend's dog, he had never even spoken of the incident. That was, until a game of, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done for a girl," a simple way to pass time on a long car trip had caused him to tell Roman and Seth the story.

When he had finished, Roman and Seth had seriously considered trying to find Cinnamon, knowing that Dean was still hurting over her. They had made some attempts, but it wasn't easy. They had been Shield back then, and always seemed to be together, which meant that Dean was likely to interrupt any internet searches or phone calls to talk to colleges where she might have been a student. Then, Shield had broken up, thing had gotten crazy for all of them, and finding Cinnamon had been forgotten.

Then Jessica found out about the search and offered to take over. And unlike Roman, Jessica had something that resembled a normal schedule, and started looking actively, never having to worry about Dean walking in on her. It had taken her less than a month to track her down. "Her name is Cinnamon, that sure didn't hurt," Jessica had explained when she told him the good news. "I mean, there are more Cinnamon's out there than you may think, but it wasn't impossible. And once I found out her last name, I was able to track her to West Virginia. She's not even the only Cinnamon Nolan, but I'm over 90% sure this is the Cinnamon we're looking for."

"What are we going to do if this isn't the Cinnamon we want?" Seth asked, as they got out of the car. "I mean, I know Jess is pretty confident, but she wasn't totally certain."

Roman looked at the other car in the driveway. "I'm pretty sure this is it," he remarked.

"Oh?"

Roman pointed to the car. On the back was a bumper sticker with three big letters, WVW. Under that, in a jagged, edgy script were the words, "West Virginia Wrestling." "Dean said they met when he was working for the independents. She likes the smaller leagues."

Seth nodded. "Then, there's only one thing to do, knock on the door."

"Yup."

The climbed the steps on to the little front porch, It wasn't a big house, but it was neat and trim looking, white vinyl siding and blue trim and shutters. It spoke of an owner that may not have had a lot, but what she did have, she took care of. "Maybe we should have called," Seth pondered as Roman reached for the doorbell.

"Nope, we agreed, face to face is the best," Roman said, as he rang the bell.

Less than a minute later, the door was flung open by-

By-

By-

Roman and Seth both blinked, looked at each other, then back at the door. The person who had opened it was a smaller, younger, version of Dean.

Well, not exactly. He had copper colored hair, and green eyes, but other than that, he looked _exactly_ as they would have pictured Dean looking when he was a young boy. Same mouth, same nose, and while the color was different, the shape of the eyes was the same.

 _"We joked about having kids,"_ Dean's voice came into Roman's head. _"She wanted them to look exactly like me. But I wanted them to have her hair and eye color." Dean,_ he though, _I think you both got your wish._

He and Seth were not the only ones staring, the child was staring at them, too, those intense green eyes, so green they almost looked as if he was wearing tinted contacts, wide in shock. "You're-you're," he stuttered. "You're _Shield!_ " This last word was said with an almost worshipful reverence.

"Part, yes," Roman said, grinning at the boy, then asking, "Is your Mother home?"

"Yeah, I'll go get her." The boy turned to run, then stopped and turned back. "Don't move, okay? _Don't move_. I'll be right back." He turned again, stopped and turned once more looking at Seth. "You're a jerk!" he said, then once again, turned, but this time ran from the doorway, yelling, "Mom! Mom!" You're not going to believe this, but Shield is at the door! _Mom!"_

Seth turned to Roman and in a mock serious tone said, "Shot down by a kid, I'm hurt."

Roman shrugged. "You should be, you jerk. Thanks to you, trust is dead to me now." His tone was deadly serious, but anyone looking at him would have seen the gleam in his eyes.

"U still mad, Bro?" Seth quipped back.

"I'm getting over it." Roman said in the same monotone voice, "Just remember, you ruined my life."

Meanwhile, they could still hear the boy yelling for his mother, loudly telling her who was at the door. A few moments later, a woman's voice joined the boys. "Really? And I suppose John Cena is with them? Maybe Randy Orton?"

"I don't think so, let me check!" The boy's head appeared again from the other side of the screen door. "No!" He hollered. "They aren't there!"

"It's just part of The Shield," Roman called in through the door. "Just the Powerhouse and the Traitor."

"Hey!" Seth protested.

If Seth was going to say anything else, it was interrupted by the appearance of a tall, lean woman with hair and eyes the same color as the smaller version of Dean. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had the same lettering as the bumper sticker on her car. When she saw Roman and Seth at the screen door, she hurried over and opened it. "Mox?"

It was only one word, but Roman could hear the worry, the fear, no, worse than fear, the _terror_ , in her voice. _Of course,_ he thought. _She must be assuming something terrible has happened and that's why we're here._ "He's fine," he assured her. "He doesn't know we're here."

She breathed a visible sigh of relief, and Roman wasn't sure if it was just because he had assured her Dean was okay, or if it was also because of his assurance that Dean didn't know of this visit. "Won't you come in?" she asked.

Both Seth and Roman stepped in the door, which also meant they stepped right into the living room. The place was too small to have an official entry way. But the living room was comfortable looking, furnished with a couple of oversized sofas and a recliner.

"See, Mom, I _told_ you Shield was at the door!" the boy said, his voice accusatory.

"Yes, you did, Neil," she agreed and turned to Seth and Roman. She motioned to the living room in a sweeping gesture. "Please, have a seat. I'll be right back." She disappeared into the kitchen.

 _Neil Young,_ Roman thought. _Her parents were huge Neil Young fans, that's why she was named Cinnamon._

They sat down on either ends of one of the sofas. Neil was practically dancing around in excitement, hopping from one foot to another. "I can't believe it, you guys are in my living room. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow!" And before either man could say anything, he continued, "Where's Dean? I went out for Halloween dressed like him. Me and my friends, Cory and Sam, we went as The Shield. I know you guys broke up, but Mom said it was fine. I went as Dean. Why isn't Dean with you?"

"Dean had things to do," Roman said, which was the truth. He omitted the part about how Dean had no idea where he and Seth were and might not be happy if he _did_ know. "But he'll be on Raw tonight."

"On TV," Neil said, sighing, it's not the same. Then, he perked right up again. "Hang on!" He ran out of the room and returned seconds later with a photograph. "This is us, being you guys." He handed Roman a photograph in a black and orange frame that was decorated with pumpkins and bats.

Roman took the picture and looked at it. Three kids, wearing pretty good versions of their old Shield outfits were posed for the camera, arms outstretched in the old "Shield brotherhood" pose. Neil was in the middle and it really did look like someone had de-aged Dean, especially because his hair had been slicked back how Dean wore his hair back when they were Shield, so it was harder to see the coppery color. The small Seth wasn't that bad, although not nearly as good as small Dean. But they had drawn on some facial hair and used one of those cans of temporary spray dye to give the proper two toned hair look. Sure, it was much more yellow than blond, but no one would have trouble recognizing who the boy was trying to imitate.

Then there was his own counterpart. Seth had leaned over to look and was trying not to laugh. "You have to admit, the hair is perfect,"

Roman's counterpart was a girl. She was scowling and she was too young to have a noticeably different build from a boy. They had even drawn on the right facial hair, but it was so obvious this was a girl and a very cute one at that. But, Seth was right, the hair was very similar. It was even wet, looking like his did when he went to the ring.

"That's why we let Sam be you," Neil explained. "Because of the hair. We didn't use water though, Mom was afraid we'd catch cold with the water. So, that's coconut oil. It never dried, so our hair looked wet all night!"

 _I'll have to remember that_ , Roman thought to himself, only half kidding. If a match was too long, his hair sometimes had a chance to dry before it was finished and he had taken some grief over how "pretty" his hair looked when it dried.

"It's a great oil treatment too," Cinnamon said, coming in the living room with a tray containing a pitcher of amber liquid and three glasses. "Neil's hair was ever so soft and shiny after we washed it out."

"Mom!" Neil rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

Cinnamon put the tray on the coffee table, a large, square piece that served as a coffee table for both couches. "Help yourselves," she said, motioning to the pitcher.

Roman looked and grinned. "Sweet tea?"

She grinned back. "Close enough. I admit, I don't use white sugar, I use honey and I use about a third of the amount. The stuff they call Sweet Tea 'round here tastes like syrup it's so sweet." She turned to Neil, "I know this is going to really disappoint you, but I called Mrs. Williams and she's expecting you to go over there."

Neil frowned. "When?"

"Now," Cinnamon said. "She's making a batch of Tollhouse cookies and she needs an official taste tester." She looked over at Seth and Roman, "Mrs. Williams lives next door and she's Neil's surrogate grandmother."

Neil's frown turned into a full on scowl that was almost the spit of Dean's, his upper lip curling up. "Mom," he said, his voice trembling, " _Roman Reigns_ and _Seth Rollins_ are in my living room! I'm not going _anywhere!_ "

"Yes, you are, young man," Cinnamon's voice was firm and confident, as if she knew this was a battle she would win. Roman was impressed. As a parent himself, he often found himself comparing the methods and results he and Jessica used with other parents. He wondered if he himself would have been as confident that he would be able to get Leah to leave the house if, say, Elsa and Anna from Frozen had been sitting in their living room.

"But M _ooooom_ ," Neil whined, looking a little less angry and his voice taking on a wheedling tone instead. " _Roman Reigns! Seth Rollins!_ Two members of _The Shield_ are in my living room! Okay, so Dean Ambrose isn't here, which stinks, 'cause he's my favorite, but still, _Roman Reigns_ and _Seth Rollins!_ "

"Yes," Cinnamon said firmly. "I am aware of that. And I know you want to talk to them, but we have adult issues to discuss and you are not allowed to be here for that. Now, if we finish the discussion and they still have time, I will call up Mrs. Williams and ask her to send you home so you can talk to them some more. But only if they have time. They might not."

"But M _ooooooom_ ," Neil whined, but part of Roman sensed the boy knew he was fighting a losing battle. "I haven't even shown them my wrestling ring!" He turned to Roman and Seth. "It's in the back yard and it's pretty real, my friends from WVW built it for my birthday. It's lower to the ground than a real ring, but it's pretty springy and stuff. It's so cool, I know you-"

"Neil," Cinnamon's voice was just sharp enough to show she meant business. "Again, we have adult matters to discuss and you have to go taste test cookies."

Although Neil put up more protest, he eventually headed to the door, Cinnamon following behind him. When he opened the door, she grabbed him quickly and hugged him. "Sorry, big guy," she said. "I know this is hard, and thank you for being a good boy and doing what I say."

Neil looked at her, eyes slightly narrowed. "Not like I have a choice, is it?"

"Nope." She ruffled his hair. "And I know you're upset and you have every right to be upset, I would be too, but this is one of those things where you're too young to understand and you can't be here for this discussion."

End of Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

Cinnamon shut the door after Neil and returned to the living room. Roman and Seth meanwhile, had helped themselves to the iced tea. "Sorry about that," she said, sitting down. "But I figured whatever you want to discuss with me would be much easier without Neil here." She helped herself to her own glass of iced tea and sat back on the sofa. "And let's just get the awkward out of the way. I know you suspect who Neil's father is, and you're absolutely right. He's Mo-Dean's son. It's a little hard to hide."

 _Well, she comes right to the point_ , Seth thought. He looked over at Roman to see what his reaction was.

Roman nodded. "You never made any effort to contact him, did you?"

Cinnamon's nostrils flared for a brief second, but she kept her composure. "No, I didn't. He walked out of my life, remember?"

"Uh," Roman looked uncomfortable, but plunged into the heart of the matter. "The way we heard it, you told him to leave and not come back."

"Yeah, because he shot my dog," Cinnamon countered. "And claimed it was just because the dog barked a lot. Which, he did, I admit it, but _something_ was going on."

Roman sighed. This was not going as well as he hoped, and he knew finding out about Neil was at the root of it. It was one thing when it was just finding Cinnamon, the kid added a whole new layer to things. He looked over at Seth, hoping his friend would have a flash of inspiration. He looked back at him and shrugged. Then Seth looked over at Cinnamon.

"Uh... what do you mean by something was going on?" Seth asked.

Cinnamon was holding her glass of iced tea and staring into it as if it might be the mystical waters that would tell her the right things to say. After a few seconds of this, she finally sighed and looked at the two men. "I know things were not what they seemed. I have no clue what they actually _were_ , but I know something strange was going on."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked carefully. _Let her tell what she knows first,_ Seth thought, _let's see if she knows more than Dean thought she knew._

Cinnamon went back to staring at her beverage. "After Mo-Dean left, I finished burying Rocky. He had pretty much done all the work for me, I just had to fill in the hole. So, I did. But then I noticed something in the yard. Bits of the quilt Rocky was wrapped in. Some-" she hesitated before continuing, "other things, parts of Rocky, I'd rather not go into that, but the quilt bits were interesting. And I found a hole in the ground where the bullet had lodged. I-I was pretty distraught, so I wasn't thinking straight, but later, I realized," she swallowed, "I realized that he had shot Rocky on the quilt."

"Yeah, that's how we heard it," Roman said, keeping his voice soft, letting his words encourage her to speak.

"You didn't know Rocky, of course. And I don't know what- Dean has told you, but Rocky was a mess. I eventually came to realize that I did everything wrong with that dog I possibly could. He was a rescue dog, a breeder dog for a puppy mill, and I let his rough past excuse every poor bit of behavior he showed. I wasn't firm with him and he had no sense of being a dog. I let him stay a neurotic mess and that I blame entirely on me. But, Rocky wasn't too fond of Mo-Dean. And, Rocky was hyper. There is no way that dog would have laid down on a quilt so Dean could have shot him. No way in the world. And even if he would have fallen asleep on that quilt, what planning would Dean have had to do to bring the quilt outside, let Rocky outside, get Rocky to lie down and fall asleep, or at least lie down and be quiet enough so he could shoot Rocky in the head?"

 _Dean said she was smart,_ Roman thought. _She's proving it now._ He nodded encouragingly.

"And there were other things too," she said. "I was studying for exams at the time. I'm not a slob, but I had been neglecting the housework. Mo-Dean had been leaving me alone at my request, which didn't help. Believe it or not, he used to help me with the cleaning."

Seth almost _didn't_ believe it. The idea of Dean going about Cinnamon's house with a duster crept into his mind and he almost chuckled, because his brain also put Dean in the male version of a Cinderella outfit and tiny cartoon bluebirds following along with him, twittering happily. Fortunately, at the last moment, he was able to stop himself and instead took a page from Roman's book and merely nodded to let her continue.

"But, I _did_ notice my kitchen was clean. A little _too_ clean. I mean, it was spit and polish clean, like someone had done the spring cleaning. The cabinets were all washed down, the floor was practically sparkling, the appliances and counter tops gleaming. I don't think that kitchen had ever looked so clean. Nothing was adding up. Why would Mo-Dean take my dog outside, get him to lie down and be quiet enough to shoot him, and then come in the house and clean the kitchen from top to bottom? I mean, we all know Mox," she paused and sighed. "I'm sorry, I know he's Dean...but when all this went down, he was Mox to me. _My_ Mox. So it's hard on me."

"It's all right," Roman said. "We know who you mean."

"I know it's wrong to call him by his old ring name," she continued as if Roman hadn't spoken. "But... god, he's _Mox_ to me. But I'll try. It's funny, I've never called him Mox when I've seen him on TV, never said to my son, 'So, you're going out as Mox for Halloween.' I'm able to keep that straight, it's just when I talk about the past..." She let her voice trail off and shrugged, looking almost helpless.

"It's okay," Seth assured her too. "He was Jon Moxley then, so it's natural when you think back, he'd be Jon Moxley."

"He was never Jon to me," she admitted. "He was Mox. _My_ Mox. Just like I was _his_ Cinnamon Girl. We weren't trying to be possessive of each other, that's just the way it was." She looked around as if she had fallen into a memory and was having trouble leaving it. "Where was I?"

"You were telling us how everything wasn't making sense, that your kitchen was clean." Roman prompted her.

"Oh yes." She nodded. "The kitchen was spotless. It just didn't add up. I wasn't sure what was going on...but..." She paused and looked pained. "I think, I mean, I wasn't thinking much of anything right after it happened. I was too upset, too confused. I had just finished my exams and I was exhausted and burnt out. After Mox left, I finished burying Rocky and went to sleep. Then, I just got depressed. I functioned, but I was depressed. I'd lost my dog, lost my Mox, and I was pregnant."

"Did you know you were pregnant?" Roman asked realizing the answer to this was a lot more important than he had realized when he first saw Neil.

She nodded. "I knew the night before, the night I fell asleep in the library. I came home with the test and took it. I was-" she paused and started again, "I _should_ have told Mox that night. But I -" She paused again and sighed. "No matter what I say, I'm going to sound like a bitch or an idiot, so here it goes. I think, with the exams and all, I just had a sort-of functioning breakdown, one where I was able to do what I felt I had to do, but beyond that, I was blank. I remember realizing the test was positive and thinking, _I just cannot handle this now, therefore, I'm not pregnant. I will be after exams are over, but right now, I'm not._ Then I remembered and reminded myself, _No, Mox has to wrestle Saturday and you'll be driving him there and you don't want to give him any distractions. So, I am not pregnant yet. I will be pregnant Sunday morning. I'll make breakfast for Mox and I, and tell him then. But until then, I am_ _ **not**_ _pregnant._ Then, I threw the test away and totally blocked it out." She looked up at the two men. "Listen to me rattle. God, I'm sure you didn't come her to play shrink with Dean Abrose's ex girlfriend."

"It's okay," Roman said. But she was right, it was a little strange, but then again, this whole thing was completely unexpected. They had only planned to stop by and tell her that Dean needed- needed- _What?_ he thought. _What were you hoping to do with this? Did you think time would freeze and she would be exactly the same as she'd been when Dean and her split? Sure, you weren't expecting the kid, but what if she'd been happily married with a bunch of kids, younger than Neil? Or what if she was living with someone in a committed relationship? What were you going to do then? Tell her, 'We think if Dean doesn't still love you, he at least has strong feelings for you.'_ _Dean needs closure?_ _What would that have accomplished if she were with someone else?_ He looked at her. "Maybe it was a mistake coming here."

"A little late for that, isn't it?" Cinnamon said, with a snort of laughter. "You know, that puts a big ball in your court. Are you going to be able to face him knowing that out there, less than twenty five miles away, is his nine year old son? Can you just shrug and pretend Neil doesn't exist?"

"Apparently, you had no problem pretending to Neil that _Dean_ didn't exist," Roman snapped before he could think, realizing this was bothering him more than he thought. "What does he know about his father?" He knew, deep down, that he was being a jerk, but part of him was thinking how he would have felt if Jessica had not told him she was pregnant, but instead just left him. He tried to picture life without her or Leah and it was a bleak picture.

"He knows his father is a wrestler," Cinnamon snapped right back. "And that _I_ thought he wasn't ready to be a father. Neil doesn't know that he shot my dog. Neil doesn't know that his father is Dean Ambrose. I figured that was too much for him to handle at his age. I did my best to make this _my_ problem, so that if the day ever comes that they meet, Neil won't see M-Dean as the bad guy. That he knows the truth, that I kept him from Dean, no one else."

"Whoa!" Seth put his glass on the coffee table, put the palm of his left hand on the tips of his right fingers, making the universal Time out signal. "Look," he said, his gaze fixing on Cinnamon, "We didn't come her to cause trouble. Seriously, we came here because...well because we found out the story, the _full_ story about you and Dean. And we felt you should know the truth. We had no idea that you had Dean's kid."

"That's true, I didn't hang a banner on the door," Cinnamon said with a wry grin. "Some of my friends in the WVW suspect who Neil's father is, but we don't talk about it. And, since you brought it up, what _is_ the truth? My theory? Something happened with Rocky and he was dead when Dean got to the house."

"You've known that?" Roman asked. He wasn't completely calmed down, but he was getting a grip. _She didn't break up with him,_ he reminded himself. _Dean is the one who ended it. He ended it with a lie to save her feelings, but still_ _ **he**_ _ended it_ _, or maybe he forced her to end it._ _It's not Cinnamon's fault._

"Well, Dean said you were smart," Seth said with a shrug and a grin.

Cinnamon looked at Seth, a faint grin on her face, but it didn't quite match her eyes. "I don't know what Mox-I mean, Dean, told you about me, to be honest. I know I said some pretty hateful things that day, but he said some very cruel ones to me, too. I think I know why he said them now, but I didn't then. He just kept saying that he shot the dog so I could study and how I should be grateful to him for doing it, so on and so forth. It wasn't until later that I started putting together that something was really wrong with the whole thing, the blanket, the clean kitchen, so on and so forth."

"If you pretty much figured out that Dean hadn't deliberately killed the dog," Roman asked, "then why didn't you try to get in touch with him?"

She stared at him. "It took me awhile to put it together and even then I still wasn't sure. But I knew one thing; Mox took out the trash. I had thrown the positive pregnancy test on the top of the kitchen trash. I know I did, because the bathroom in that place was right off the kitchen, so I didn't have a trashcan in the bathroom, because it was easy enough to just use the kitchen one."

And the final pieces seemed to click into place. Cinnamon must have wondered if "her Mox" had lied about the dog so he wouldn't have to deal with a pregnant girlfriend. "He never saw the test, I'm positive of that. He did what he did because-" Roman began, then stopped.

Seth knew someone had to say it. "You had KFC for dinner that night," he said, his voice softer than it's usual tone.

"I might have," Cinnamon said, looking puzzled. "I love KFC, and there was one on the way home from school, but how would you-" she pause, turning pale and whispered, "The bones, _chicken_ bones."

"Yeah," Seth nodded. "Dean said he was sure you were really tired and just forgot to put them someplace where Rocky couldn't find them. But when he came that next morning, he found Rocky bleeding on the floor and...a bone stuck in his throat. There was nothing he could do, Rocky was dying. So, he...did what he did and cleaned up the kitchen and probably took the trash away so you wouldn't see the evidence."

"And he took the fall so I'd never blame myself," Cinnamon was still whispering. "Yeah, that sounds like Mox." She looked down at her hands for a moment, then up at the two men. There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn't shedding them. "Chip, this is one huge mess, isn't it?"

"You can't change the past," Roman said, wondering why she used the word "Chip" when there were better substitutes for "shit," but deciding now was not the time to ask her about it. "But, well, I don't know what your life is like now, if you're involved with anyone-"

"No," she interrupted. "I'm not involved with anyone. I put my efforts into raising my son instead." Her words rang true, but there was something in her expression that spoke that it was more than that. Dedication to raising Neil was the main reason, but not the _only_ reason.

"Look," Seth said, realizing that he and Roman had interfered enough, they were not the people who Cinnamon should be talking with this about, not anymore. "We did what we came here to do. You know the truth. I'm sorry you have to deal with knowing the bones killed Rocky, that sucks but-"

"-but it sucks even worse to think that Neil's father and the guy I love is someone who would just kill a dog for barking too much," Cinnamon interrupted to finish.

 _Love_ , Roman thought. _She said love, not_ _ **loved**_.

"-Yeah," Seth agreed. "But what you do with that knowledge is up to you, now. We're in town for the next two nights, RAW tonight and Main Event/Smackdown taping tomorrow. If you and your boy want to come to the show tonight, Roman and I will make sure there are tickets in the box office. VIP, front area, awesome seats, the whole bit. If you want to come, come. They included backstage passes so, you're likely to see Dean."

"I know Neil would give his eye teeth to go," Cinnamon said. "Me? I'm torn."

"Yeah, but he's not here, we need to get going, and we're not going to tell him," Seth continued. "The tickets will be at the box office, it's up to you what you do about it and what you tell Neil." He started rising to his feet, Roman doing the same.

As she was showing them out, Roman turned to her and sighed. "Sorry if I came across like an ass in there," he said, motioning to the living room. "It's just... I've got a little girl, her name is Leah, and she's my world. I can't imagine not being part of her life. I can't imagine how I would have felt if I only found out she existed when she was Neil's age. I'm on the road a lot, but I do my best to stay in contact with her."

"I know what you're saying," Cinnamon said, her voice softer than normal, her expression sincere. "And it's okay. Let me guess, you think I need to tell him, don't you?"

Roman nodded. "Again, this is a father talking, but also, Dean's friend. I-I can understand why you erred on the side of caution before; you're a mother and your first concern is to protect your son. But, now that you know that Dean didn't kill your dog and didn't know you were pregnant, I think you owe it to him to let him know about Neil. I-I won't tell him, even though I want to, but I hope _you'll_ tell him instead. Dean is good with kids. My daughter adores him, calls him 'Unca Dean.' He's got the right to know he's a father."

She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. And thank you for telling me everything, especially that your daughter adores him. It's giving me a lot to think about."

End of Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was waiting in the Gorilla position for his theme music to start. Bray was out there right now, in the ring, blathering on and on about how he was once like Dean, how he was the only one who understood Dean, how he would _fix_ Dean. Or, maybe he was giving his recipe for Cajun Crayfish and Shrimp Etouffe, who the hell knew? Dean had long ago stopped listening to the babble Bray spouted. He liked the guy and all, but honestly, his promos were like going to church and that wasn't supposed to be what wrestling was about. Sure, talking could help things along, promos were great, but any talking done over wrestling should be to build up excitement for a match. What Bray did was share his nonsensical prattling that if allowed to continue, would eventually lead the fans into torpor. Wrestling should be like that old Toby Kieth song, "A little less talk and a lot more action."

"Okay, when your music starts, you're going to go out there right away. He's not calling you out, you're charging out, so, no need to let that music play more than a few seconds without you making your first appearance at the top of the ramp."

Dean turned and looked at the man in the suit. Someone from creative, or a road manager, someone of some importance, giving him that last minute advice, like Dean needed it. "No, really? I thought when my theme music started, I'd go around the corner for a beer." When he saw the shocked look on the guy's face, Dean couldn't help but laugh, "Don't worry, dude, I can handle this."

"Okay, do you remember the rest?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I need to pause on the top of the ramp. Let the cameras pan in on me, looking crazier and angrier than the Tasmanian Devil on crack. Glare at Bray for a few seconds, then head down the ramp. Anything else I should remember? Do I have flowers to bring to Bray? Maybe a nice box of chocolates? He'd probably appreciate that. Maybe a bucket o' chitlins and a dead opossum?"

"Dean, I'm just doing my job," the man protested.

"I know," Dean said, grinning, even though he was still slightly annoyed. "And don't worry, I've got it, I'm a professional."

If the guy had any more advice or protests to make, he lost his chance as Dean's theme music started. "That's me," he called out and headed for the top of the ramp.

No matter how many times he did this, there would always be a thrill for Dean when he got to the top of the ramp. No matter how tired he was, no matter how hard he'd partied the night before, or how hard he had worked in the gym that day, when he heard his theme music and got to the top of that ramp, about to go down and then into the ring, it infused him with energy. He was never more alive when he was performing, never happier than when he was heading for a match.

He charged out to the top of the ramp and stopped, running his fingers through his hair, looking around the arena as the cameras fixed on him. The crowd seemed really alive tonight, which was awesome. When the crowd was alive, he could vibe off of them and they could vibe off of him in an endless frantic, energetic loop. Nothing in the world was better. His gaze moved around, intending to do a quick sweep of the crowd and then to focus on Bray. He looked to the right quickly, then swung his head slightly to the left to look at the people on that side.

Standing right behind the barricade was Cinnamon Nolan and for a moment, he totally forgot where he was and what he was doing. She looked pretty much the same as she had nine years ago, the last time he saw her. She even wore her hair the same way, hanging loose and free falling over her shoulders. She was smiling at him, and as he looked, he noticed her hand was on the shoulder of-of-of-

- _a smaller version of himself_. A version of himself with copper colored hair and even though the lights were too dim to see clearly, Dean would have bet a year's salary that the kid's eyes were as green as his mothers.

Dean's eyes went wide and for a moment, he almost forgot where he was, forgot what he was doing, Almost, but not quite. He was professional. He might _play_ crazy, he might _be_ crazy, but he knew his job and he'd never let the audience down. His gaze might have lingered on Cinnamon a little longer than it should have, he knew she smiled at him, but then he pushed her out of his mind and headed down the ramp to face Bray Wyatt.

* * *

When Dean headed up the ramp, after the skirmish with Bray that ending up in a draw, he realized he could barely remember what he had done, what he had said, when performing. He had gone into autopilot, because part of his mind kept going back to the woman who was now to the right of him, behind the barricade. The woman he once loved and the boy who was the right age, but yet, he had spied on her after they had parted and she never _looked_ pregnant. He wondered why they were here. Was this a fluke? An accident? They were in prime ticket location, Cinnamon _had_ to know he was likely to see her.

He looked to the right to see if she was still there and to see if anyone else was with her besides the kid. She was there, right near the front. The boy was leaning over the barricade as far as he could, small hand outstretched, fingers flexing, clearly trying to get Dean to notice him. Cinnamon was still standing behind the boy, and Dean allowed himself a little bit longer look. There was no one else standing near her, no obvious husband or boyfriend staking claim with his arm around her. Dean was almost disgusted at the relief he felt at seeing that in all likelihood she had just come here with the kid, no one else. _Just because she came here without a man, doesn't mean she doesn't have one at home, waiting for her._

Although he didn't usually make contact with the crowd, (crazy people didn't go touching the fans. Besides, he had more than his fair share of being touched as a member of The Shield, thank you very much) Dean found himself drifting over and quickly slapping the kid's palm with his own. The boy grinned at him as if Dean had given him a precious treasure, then put his palm up, studying it as if he expected it would be different now that it had been touched by Dean Ambrose. Barely aware that he was doing it, he ruffled the kid's hair, then continued up the ramp.

Once in the back, he looked at one of the security people who were right backstage. "Did you see the kid whose hair I ruffled out there?" he asked. He and Bray had been the main event, the show was pretty much over.

The guard nodded. "Yeah, weird, huh? The little guy looked a lot like-"

"-Yeah, go out and escort his mother and him back here, I want to talk to them," Dean interrupted, then realized how demanding he sounded and softened his tone. "That is, if they want to come back and meet me. If they don't, that's cool. _" No,_ his mind screamed, _If they don't, that is_ not _cool. That is very_ _ **uncool**_ _._ But what could he do? He couldn't force Cinnamon to face him, all he could do is hope she wanted to see him.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose," the security man said, and hurried to do what Dean asked.

Dean turned and called out to the guard, "I'll be in the catering area. If they say yes, bring them there."

The guard nodded, but did not turn around. Dean did though, and headed to where catering had been set up earlier. The catering company had torn down and cleaned up by now, but the tables were still there. Dean got a bottle of water and sat down at one. Other tables were occupied by other wrestlers, most of them with family that were able to come to this show. Dean saw Titus O'Neil with his sons, and was surprised they were at this showing, because they lived in Florida.

He usually avoided this area after shows for this exact reason; it was the family reunion spot. The closest he had to that was if any of Roman's relatives every stopped by. Roman's family, immediate and otherwise had taken Dean in and in every sense but the legal one, adopted him. Dean liked it, liked having a surrogate family, but it wasn't the same as having a real family. Even though all the Reigns and the various offshoots had done their best to make Dean feel like family, part of him would always feel like they were really Roman's family and he was just tagging along.

Now as he sat there, he wondered if for the first time, he was going to have family come back. No, he couldn't claim Cinnamon as family, but that boy... either she'd found his doppelganger right after they broke up or-

"Mr. Ambrose?"

He looked up to see the security guard coming over with Cinnamon and the boy. Cinnamon was wearing green blouse, made of a gauze like material, just like she used to wear. She wore jeans now, which was new, when he knew her before she had pretty much only worn solid colored skirts, usually of denim or another sturdy material. He looked down at her feet, noting with amusement that she still wore white Keds, although they didn't look as pristine as they used to. These looked like she might have worn them a few weeks since washing.

Dean forced himself to look away from Cinnamon, even though he could have stared at her for a few hours, taking in the sight of her, but he wanted to see the boy too. In the brighter light back here, the resemblance to him was even stronger. Dean didn't have many keepsakes from his childhood, his mother had never been the type to take pictures or save things like discarded baby teeth, but he did have a picture of himself and a cousin, taken when he was about nine years old. If he could photo-shop that picture so he had copper colored hair and green eyes, anyone who saw it, would think it was a picture of Neil.

There were a few subtle differences though, that he could see in the light. Nothing solid, but there just the same. The picture Dean owned showed a boy who was growing up too fast and didn't have a lot of happy memories to sustain him through the bad times. This boy looked happy and excited. Not just because he was meeting one of his favorite wrestlers (Dean assumed by the way the kid had tried to get his attention that if he wasn't _the_ favorite, he was at least _a_ favorite) but because he had a good life. There were no tension lines starting to cut into his forehead, and his lips looked like they were used to curling into a grin, rather than a snarl. This child looked like even at his young age, he had a lot of good memories to help him through bad times.

The guard was escorting them over to the table. Dean almost jumped out of his seat, but forced himself to calmly stand instead. The boy was practically dancing, holding onto his mother's hand, but when he saw Dean stand, he broke away from her and ran towards Dean. "WOW!" He exclaimed, "Dean Ambrose!"

"Yeah," Dean said, not knowing what else he should say. Did the kid know that he and his mother were friends? _Oh, a whole lot more than friends,_ that voice in his head said. _You two were in love. So, what are you now?_

The boy stopped just a foot or so from Dean and suddenly looked awkward as if now that he was face to face with his idol, he had no clue what to do. "You're Dean Ambrose!" he finally said, his voice a reverent whisper that reminded Dean of how people said the name "god" when in Church. "You're... you're..." the kid stammered and then just went silent, unable to find the words to express correctly, exactly what it is he thought Dean Ambrose was.

"Yeah, that's me," Dean said, crouching down so he was more on eye level with the kid. "And your name is?"

"Neil," the kid said. "Neil M. Nolan," He announced his full name stiffly, formally, as if he wasn't sure how he was supposed to give his name to an idol.

 _Neil Young_ , Dean thought. Then his mind focused on the middle initial. "What does the 'M' stand for?" he asked.

The kid shrugged. "I don't know, it's just a middle initial, I don't think it stands for anything." He spread his hands out in a gesture that clearly said, "What can I do? It is what it is."

That told Dean everything he needed to know. _Mox,_ he thought. _That M stands for Mox._ He knew it as surely as he now knew that Neil's father wasn't a man that just happened to look like him, Neil was his child, at least by blood. He couldn't really claim a father-son relationship with him, at least not yet. And the worst part was he didn't have a clue how he felt about this. His mind had emotionally frozen itself into a state of shock.

"Hi, Dean," Cinnamon was close enough to touch now, standing in front of him, smelling faintly like buttered popcorn, probably she had eaten some earlier that night. She smiled at him, putting one hand on Neil's shoulder. "You made my son's night by wanting to meet him."

"Well, seemed like the least I could do," Dean said, straightening up looking at her, part of him wanting to grab her and kiss her, another part wanting to drag her off somewhere so they could be alone, no, not for _that_ reason, although, part of him wanted that too, but because he wanted to hear from her lips what happened, wanted her to confirm what he knew, Neil was blood of his blood.

 _One step at a time,_ he told himself. _Relax and deal with the kid first, because I'm suspecting he doesn't even know his mom and you even know each other._

"I went out for Halloween as you!" Neil said, staring at him with shining eyes. "Me and Sam and Cory! Sam played Roman an' Cory played Seth, but I played you! And everyone said I was the best one!"

 _Well duh,_ Dean's mind, but fortunately, not his mouth said. _You have a hell of an advantage in that department, unless Cory and Sam's mothers spent some time with Roman and Seth._ He grinned at Neil instead. "Good job."

"Yeah, it was awesome. I hate it that the Shield broke up, but I like the stuff you do now. But The Shield was so cool. Seth was a _total_ jerk."

"Neil," Cinnamon said, smoothly. "We talked about this." She looked at Dean. "He really did love The Shield."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said to Cinnamon then to Neil said, "I think he's a jerk, too." Well, he did in character, at least.

"You do? Wow!" Neil looked happy. "Then I don't feel so bad that I called him a jerk today."

"Aw, don't worry, he can-" Dean began, then stopped. "You met Seth today?" He looked at Cinnamon. "He wasn't one the ones for the meet and greet, how did you meet up with Seth?"

"They were at our house," Neil said happily, not having any idea that this was information that perhaps he shouldn't be sharing. "Both Roman _and_ Seth came over to tell Mom she and I could come to the show tonight. I don't know why they had to come over the house or how my Mom got tickets, or why I had to leave the house for them to tell her, but that's what happened."

 _Should I kill them or thank them?_ Dean wondered, starting to put this together. He had told Seth and Roman about Cinnamon, they had taken it upon themselves to find her. Had they told her the truth about Rocky? His head was spinning and part of him wanted to talk to Neil, part of him wanted to talk to Cinnamon alone, and part of him wanted to have some time to think. Barely aware of it, the fingers of his right hand curled into a fist.

"Dean," Cinnamon's voice was soft. "Do you have plans for the rest of the night?" She reached out and lightly touched his hand and automatically, his fingers uncurled and the fist became again, just a hand.

She still had it, this way of disarming him when his mood threatened to darken. It wasn't that she tried to block out his crazy, she had always been of the opinion that she loved him, crazy and all. The only thing that seemed to be able to stop it was when she thought he killed her dog. But she had always been good at diverting the crazy, giving that small reminder that there was a time and a place for everything, and right now, this was not the time. That touch to his hand had calmed him. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Roman and Seth interfering in his life and he knew there would be words between the three of them at some point soon, but for right now, it wasn't important. Right now what was important was dealing with this, with Cinnamon and Neil. Although exactly what they were supposed to do about this eluded him.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No plans." He and Roman had talked about possibly hitting the town before last call, but nothing had been carved in stone and he figured Roman would understand if he couldn't party tonight.

"I don't live far from here," Cinnamon said. "Why don't you come over?" She looked at him, those green eyes glittering faintly. "Neil will be going to bed and you and I can...talk. I think we need to talk, don't you?"

He studied her. She was being as calm as a lake at sunset, but Dean knew her. Yes, it had been a long time, but still, part of him still knew her as well as she knew him. She was nervous, and he knew part of her was afraid he might shake his head to her offer and say that their was no need for them to talk.

"Mom!" Neil protested. "If Dean comes over, I am _not_ going to bed."

"Yes you are," Cinnamon said. "But if Dean agrees to come over, and comes in our car with us, you can talk to him on the way home, all right?"

"Wow, you make it sound like I have a choice," Neil muttered.

Cinnamon looked Dean, not saying anything, but waiting for his answer. He grinned, his cocky, confident grin and nodded. "Sure, I'd love to come over. Let me just change into my civvies and I'll be right with you."

* * *

They drove back to her place together in her car. Dean had come to the arena with Roman, so it worked out. Of course, he had no idea how he was supposed to get to the hotel later, but he figured he'd worry about that when he had to. "Worst come to worst, I'll call you for a ride, if I need it," he said to Roman, when he told him of the change in plans. "And you _will_ come and get me," he added, "Because _you_ might be on my shit list, you _and_ Seth."

"Might?" Roman had asked.

"We'll see how it goes," was all Dean would say.

On the way back to his home, Neil calmed down a little bit, and instead of talking non-stop as Dean expected, he started asking Dean questions, and not bad ones either, such as; did he prefer hardcore wrestling to what he was doing now? Which was better, wrestling for independents or the WWE? Did he miss The Shield? Did he believe The Shield would reunite and would he like to see them reunite? Dean did his best to answer the questions honestly, but in ways he would understand. "Do you want to be a wrestler?" he asked the boy.

"Yes!" Neil said so quickly and enthusiastically that it echoed through the small car. "More'n anything else in the world! I've got a ring in the back yard, maybe I can show it to you someday. That was my birthday present back in January. Mom had our friends build it. It's pretty real too, except that it's shorter to the ground." He said the last part with a bit of a huff.

"Sorry," Cinnamon said, sounding remarkably unsorry. "We talked about that. For now we keep it as low to the ground as we can. Besides, you don't need to store anything under there like professional wrestlers do."

"Yeah, yeah," Neil said, obviously not convinced his mother was right. But he quickly perked up. "But it has a lot of spring to it."

"It's got a layer of old tires and a layer of old mattresses under the floor," Cinnamon offered as explanation. "And then a gym mat on top of the plywood."

"Someone knew what they were doing," Dean commented. That was the usual way to add bounce to a back yard wrestling ring. Then to Neil he said, "That sound cool. I'd love to see your ring, but not tonight, it's too dark outside for me to really see it. Maybe another time."

"Yeah," Neil sighed in frustration for the unfairness of life. "I know."

Part of Dean wanted to tell him not to worry, that he would be coming back to see him, but he hesitated. He wasn't sure what role Cinnamon wanted him to play in Neil's life, he wasn't sure what role _he_ wanted to play in Neil's life. He felt like he'd been thrown into a wolves den, except that wolves might have been easier. Wolves it was kill or be killed. What was he in here? Love or be loved? Maybe that should be, love _and_ be loved. Real love too, not the hero worship love Neil already had for him.

He didn't blame Cinnamon for keeping Neil from him, although he suspected Roman probably did. But he knew what he had done, what he had said. He had taken every trick in the book to sell to her that he had straight up just murdered her dog. She was supposed to believe it, he had wanted that, because even though it had hurt to lose her (and oh, it had hurt lot and for a very long time and perhaps it _still_ hurt) he had cared too much about her to let her live with the guilt of being responsible for the death of her dog. He had spent the last ten years believing he had done what was best for her at his expense. If he decided to blame her for not telling him about Neil, then he'd be forced to admit to himself that he hadn't really wanted to spare her after all.

By the time they pulled up to the house, Neil, for all his excitement and declarations of being unable to sleep, was clearly about at the point of passing out. Cinnamon helped him out of the back seat, easy and comfortably, putting her arm around him and guiding him to the door. And the whole time, Dean just stood there or followed, feeling awkward and strange. Part of him felt he should just scoop the boy up and carry him into the house, but another part of him wondered if that would be too familiar for both Neil and Cinnamon. Then, a third part of him popped up to say he was being a wishy-washy pansy who was probably disgusting both of them with his inability to make up his mind.

As they walked up the stairs to the house, he did think of one thing he could do, and took the keys from Cinnamon's hand. "Let me," he said, going to open the door. "Uh, is a dog going to run out?"

Cinnamon shook her head. "We don't have a dog."

"Yet," Neil mumbled, half in his sleep. "Gonna get one, someday...Mommy promised."

"Yes, I did," Cinnamon agreed. "I miss having a dog."

Dean opened the deadbolt and the door lock and pushed it open to let Cinnamon and Neil in first. Then he stepped in behind them, shutting the door.

"The little man here is tired," Cinnamon said, although that was perfectly obvious. "Let me get him off to bed. Make yourself at home, I'll be right back." And with that, she lead Neil down a small hallway and to his bedroom, which was on the right.

When she came back into the living room, Dean was standing in the living room, looking at the photographs Cinnamon had on her walls. She had several of those multiple picture collage things, where you could put a bunch of small photos into one big frame. There were dozens of pictures of Neil, of course, not just school pictures or those typical portrait Christmas shots, but candid shots of Neil opening Christmas packages, Neil playing with different dogs, mostly boxers. And a lot of Neil with wrestlers, not WWE superstars, many, many rungs below that. These were wrestlers who were at the same point he had been at when he met Cinnamon, guys who worked the independents. The weekend warriors. There was one picture of Neil, from a few years ago, on the shoulders of a compact, muscular wrestler by a ring, and at the top of the apron, in large letters, read WVW and below that, in smaller letters, West Virginia Wrestling. He had heard of the group, in fact he and some of his buddies had done some invasions of the group. Apparently, Cinnamon had found them when she moved here, and just like when he met her, she went to the local matches, but now she brought her son with her.

 _ **Our**_ _son_ , his brain whispered. _He's_ _mine_ _through and through. Look at the pictures, they're like looking at a younger version of_ _me_ _. Yeah, he has his mother's hair color, and her eye color, but everything else is_ _me_ _._

"He's asleep," Cinnamon said softly.

He whirled around, realizing she had entered the room so quietly, he hadn't heard her. "That's good," he said, then jerked his thumb at the pictures behind him, "I was just looking," he said, and realized he was sounding defensive, as if he had no right to peek at their past.

"I have more if you want to see them," she said, "baby pictures, toddler pictures, so on and so forth. His life, so far, has been heavily photo documented." She moved over closer to him. Not close enough so she was invading his personal space, but close enough so he could smell that she still used the same coconut oil shampoo, that left her hair smelling faintly like a dessert, or an exotic tropical drink.

"Maybe later," he mumbled, then looked at her. "How?"

"How what? Neil?" Her brow furrowed. "Dean, we were having sex, remember? When a man loves a woman and they share-"

"That's not what I mean," Dean objected. He appreciated the humor she was trying to inject into the situation, but there were more pressing matters at stake. "I-I saw you a few times after we-after we..."

"After you put Rocky out of his misery and took the fall?" She filled in for him.

"Yeah." He shoved his hands in his pocket, not sure if it was because of nerves, or because he was afraid that if he didn't, he would grab onto her and not let go. She still had that affect on him, that intoxicating feeling that no matter what he wanted, she would give it to him, every bit of herself, without hesitation. "I-I used to drive by your place," he confessed. "I saw you a few times. Yeah, sometimes you wore... one of my old t-shirts, but not all the time. And you didn't look pregnant. I did that for about six months. Then I stopped for awhile, but I drove by once, three months after that and saw you with a boxer puppy."

She looked at him,"You were checking up on me," she said, and she didn't sound accusing, she sounded pleased, as if she did understand he didn't do it because it was creepy or obsessive, he did it because he had taken the responsibility of Rocky's death upon his shoulders, and he felt he had to see her through to the other side. "I didn't really start to show until the middle of my seventh month," she admitted. "A lot of folks who I saw all the time didn't even realize I was pregnant until they saw me with Neil. So, you were seeing me pregnant, you just didn't know. The last time you saw me, I'd probably had Neil. By then I had started volunteering with the boxer rescue and one of the girls that worked there, Lynn, she really helped me out when Neil was born, she stayed in the house with me and helped me with Neil until I moved here. She's still living in that trailer. She bought it from the landlord. The boxer puppy you saw me with must have been one of the fosters we had. I wanted another dog, but I had a baby and I felt my first priority was for Neil."

"Oh," was all he said. He wanted to say more, wanted to ask her all the right questions, say all the right things, ask more about Neil, figure out what he was supposed to do about Neil, but all he could think about was her, _his_ Cinnamon girl, so close, and yet he was afraid still so far away. _This is why I never tried to find her after I checked on her th_ _e_ _last time,_ his brain told him. _Because I can't just be friends with her. I can't do it. My heart and my body won't let me, it can't see her as anything but_ _ **my**_ _Cinnamon girl._

End of Pt 3


	4. Chapter 4

"Dean?"

Even though Cinnamon was standing close, her voice sounded far away in his head. He forced himself to look at her, afraid he'd see pity, or even worse, _nothing_ in those green eyes, those same eyes where before he always saw- "fire," he whispered.

"Dean," she repeated, but it wasn't a question anymore, it was a statement, because her eyes _did_ still hold that fire and he had a funny feeling it had been burning steadily these last nine almost ten years. Without thinking about it, he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, not gently either, but she met him half way, falling into him, wrapping her own arms around him, and when he kissed her, it was hungrily, no, that wasn't enough, it was like both of them were _starving_ and finally being brought to a feast. Their teeth clicked together, a sound that filled his ears, but he didn't care, his one hand curled into her hair, up to her neck and he pushed her head towards him, trying to bring their mouths even closer together. His tongue found its way into her mouth and her own danced around it.

Then his other hand, the one that was curved around her waist, was pulling her shirt out of the waistband of her jeans and then slid under it, so it was touching the bare skin of her back, feeling the warmth of it, the softness of her skin, and it was okay, because one of her hands was under his shirt, rubbing his back while the other was running the fingers through _his_ hair.

For awhile, they were content with that, just to be kissing deeply, as if drinking each other, and to feel each others skin on their hands, but then that wasn't enough and Dean was working a hand between them and working on the buttons of her blouse and her hands were down on the edge of his T-shirt and she was rolling it up over his chest, and he knew it wasn't going to be long before they were both freed of their clothes, and that was okay, that was just fine, that was _exactly_ what was supposed to happen.

Except maybe not in her living room, with the kid able to walk in on them. She was the one who finally remembered and she almost had to wrench away from him, because he didn't want to let her go, but she manged to escape his mouth and she looked at him. "My bedroom," she whispered.

He had unbuttoned her blouse by now, and his shirt was almost all the way off, so he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him, and started walking with her, him forward, her backwards, their bodies still touching, their mouths still kissing.

Never had so short a distance taken him so long to walk, but with every step, he had to push her into the wall, just to kiss her again, to wrap his arms around her and feel her skin on his, just to remind himself this was real, he really was with her and she was really kissing him back with the same enthusiasm.

By the time they got into the bedroom, her blouse was gone as well as his shirt, lying in the hall like discarded victims in a battle of passion, because it was a battle they were having; not with each other, but with time, because it seemed to be taking _way_ too much of that to get where they wanted to be.

He pushed her towards the bed, but she fought him back, turning into the one walking forward while he walked backwards. He didn't know what was going on, until she reached behind him and shut the door, then pushed him up against it, now being the aggressor, kissing him fiercely, hungrily. He heard a faint click and realized she had locked the door. With that little click, it was like something broke in his head and he pushed her away from him, not too far, but enough so their bodies weren't touching.

"Clothes," he said, his voice rough. "Gone, now!" His own hands were fumbling with his jeans, suddenly feeling thick, as if someone had replaced his fingers with five foreign objects that he wasn't quite sure how to work.

While some girls might have taken his words as threatening, Cinnamon didn't say a word, but reached behind her and unhooked her bra, then rolled her shoulders so the straps fell down her arms, and then the bra fell to the floor, and for the first time in almost ten years, he was looking at her breasts again, and they hadn't really changed that much, and he found himself wanting to touch them, kiss them, lick them, bite them, but he had to get these _stupid_ pants off, and they were being _totally_ stubborn about it, like someone had sewed the button hole all around the button and glued the zipper shut.

Then she moved closer to him again, so their chests were touching, skin on skin, and she reached between them and as nimble as a cat, she popped open that button he was having so much trouble with, and unzipped his jeans. She hooked her fingers into the waistband and pushed them down, over his thighs, until they fell to the floor with a faint, almost whispering noise. He stepped out of them and kicked them away.

His own fingers had found the front of her jeans, and for some reason, when it came to _her_ clothes, his fingers began to cooperate again and he was able to unsnap and unzip her jeans. He didn't gently slide them off her waist, he pushed them down, pushing until they were over the swell of her hips, so they fell the rest of the way, unaided. Just as he had, she stepped out of her jeans and pushed them aside with one foot.

Her panties were these little green things, the type known as boy shorts, the same type she used to wear when he knew her before. They slid off just as easily when he pulled at them, as his did for her, and then they were naked and he wanted to slow down, take his time and do these things right, but instead he found himself pushing her on the bed, practically falling on top of her. He reached between them to see how she was doing, and realized she was as ready as he was, and as he moved his hand away, she took hold of him and guided him where she wanted him to be and where he wanted to be, more than anything else in the world. He slid inside of her and gasped, stopping for a moment, laying on top of her, trying to gain control because if he moved, he knew this would be embarrassingly quick and that hadn't happened to him since-well, since the first time the two of them had done it. But he had been younger then, and that time had begun with over an hour of dry humping and making out. This time it was less than ten minutes, but his body didn't care. It was like all the sex (and oh god yes, there had been a whole lot of that) with anyone between the last time they had done it and now was nothing, or wasn't exactly the same thing. So, he just lay on top of her, trying to get things back into some semblance of control. He tried to think about ice, baseball, all those things guys were supposed to do to keep from getting off too fast, but he couldn't, all he could do was think, _I'm here, I'm here, I forgot how this felt, I forgot how good it could be, I hope she's feeling the same way, oh god, this feels so good, so good, so fucking_ _ **good.**_

He realized he was shaking, and just that tiny bit of movement, was becoming too much, but he couldn't stop it, and then he realized she was shaking too, so he dropped down on his forearms, pressing into her, and then he knew that even that was too much, his body couldn't take it anymore, so he pulled back just once, and thrust into her, spending himself like a teenager on prom night, falling on top of her, burying his face in her neck, both awestruck and ashamed at how powerful it was and how poorly he had performed.

Then, she thrust her hips up, almost knocking him out of her, but she also wrapped her legs around his waist and he realized she had been right behind him, as her body clamped down on him, squeezing him so hard for a moment, that he thought she might bruise it (and wouldn't that be embarrassing to have to explain to a doctor) but just once was it that powerful, after that it it just felt _good_. She started kissing his neck, her breath in little ragged gasps.

"It's been a long time," she whispered into his ear.

"Yeah," he agreed, although it hadn't been more than...two days ago for him. But maybe they weren't talking about just sex, maybe they were talking about sex with each other. That would have made a lot of sense, because sex with Cinnamon had always felt like something very different than sex with anyone else, to the point where it was hard to believe they were the same thing. Sure, the mechanics were pretty much identical, but it was the difference between eating a microwave cheeseburger or eating a perfectly cooked rib eye steak. One was giving your body fuel, the other was giving your body a symphony of flavors. "Usually, I don't kick out 'till two," he remarked.

She broke into a giggle, which made her clamp on to him even tighter, which reminded him of why he loved making her laugh when he was inside her. It was sensory overload.

"I wish I could get so far inside of you, that I ended up wearing you like a second skin," he blurted out, then froze. This was _not_ the thing you were supposed to say, this was crazy talk, the type of talk that made a girl have second thoughts about who she had brought home for the night. _Have I blown it before we even started again?_

She nuzzled his neck. "I'd like that," she murmured. "To always feel you inside of me? Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

He found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Cinnamon had _always_ gotten him. _Always_. Even when he really had gone off the rails, which he had done quite a few times while he had known her, had minor "episodes" where he had paced the floor all night, unable to stop, his mind racing so rapidly that he had to pace, had to try to get his body to drain off some of his thoughts, she never freaked. She always just listened, or encouraged him to do something physical, like go running, lift weights, or have the two of them take Rocky on a long walk, to burn the demons out of him. She had even made love to him when he was in those moods, something no girl in his life had ever done, they had been too afraid. Not Cinnamon. The first time she had done that, she had pushed him on the bed and started unbuttoning his fly, pushing his pants and underwear down enough to free him from them. She only wore skirts back then, and she had removed her underwear before she pushed him on the bed. "Can't get rid of the darkness, Mox?" she had murmured, sliding down on him, her skirt riding up around her waist. "Don't worry, I'll just fuck it out of you."

She'd started riding him hard, and at first he just lay under her, absolutely blown away that she was doing this, having sex with him, no, _fucking_ him, at a time when most people just tried to stay away from him. Then his body realized what was happening and he let the crazy take him over and started thrusting back, then it became so much more than insanity. It was still frantic, still out of control, but it had been raw, animal, and _wonderful_.

She'd been a college student then, and he had been working some stupid temporary job, enough to pay the bills so he could wrestle on the weekends. Neither of them had gone where they were supposed to the next day, because practically all night they had been on a sexual Odyssey they had later nicknamed a "Fuckbender," Trying out every single way they could think of to fit their bodies together. By the time the sun came up, they were both exhausted, sore, and very sticky.

He lay there now, in the present, remember, that time, along with many other times he had been with her. Too many to count, still so few that he could remember each one. He found himself starting to respond again as his mind played the highlights.

"Do I feel something stirring?" she whispered into his ear, then nipping his earlobe playfully.

He rose up a little, so he was resting on his elbows and pressed into her harder, which sent a shiver through her, a shiver he could feel as her body squeezed him, exciting him further. "I know that last one wasn't so great," he admitted. "But if you keep doing what you're doing, I"ll be able to make it up to you, and then some."

"You have nothing to make up to me," she said, looking up at him, into his eyes, "I was just as eager as you and I got just as much enjoyment. But if you want to try again, this time with a little more action, rather than just _re_ action, well, we've got as long as you have, Mox."

"Dean," he reminded her, although he realized she hadn't called him Mox until now, when that was all she used to call him before.

"No," she said, reaching up and nipping his bottom lip. "When we're in public I will call you Dean, I know it's considered wrong to call you by a former ring name. But, I used to call you my Mox, and you _were_ my Mox. I don't know what's going to happen now, but I'll tell you this, if we're ever alone and we have the time and the place? We _will_ end up just like we are now, you inside me. And when that does happen? When we're alone together? You're Mox. _My_ Mox."

Other people might have thought she was being demanding, but he knew what she meant. She wasn't putting a chain on him, she was merely stating a truth they both knew. They would never be able to shake each other off completely. They could separate. If circumstances worked in certain ways, both of them could separate, meet other people, fall in love, get married, be totally in love with their spouses, but if they ever met and were alone, they would end up having sex. It was just something about the two of them that demanded it. She was doing nothing more than defining it. "And you'll always be _my_ Cinnamon girl," he said with a low growl, running his tongue along her jugular vein. "No matter where you go or who you end up with, part of you will always be mine. And yeah, if we're ever alone? I get to claim what's mine."

"Fine," she said. "As long as I get to claim what's mine. And tonight? You're mine." He was ready again, and she unlocked her legs from around his waist. "Now, Mox, will you be willing to wear something this time? Over your shoulders?"

"What's that?" he asked, starting to do small thrusts.

She smiled, that smile of hers that was both wicked and sweet at the same time. "My knees."

End of Pt 4


	5. Chapter 5

When he woke up the next day, Dean looked around the room, for a moment forgetting where he was. This wasn't like any hotel room he'd ever stayed in, with its peach colored walls and apricot trim, the homey touches, like a very comfortable looking upholstered chair in one corner, with the small book shelf near it. And the picture of himself as a child on the nightstand.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up, memory flooding back of last night and who the child in the picture was. "Neil," he found himself murmuring as he grabbed the photo in its frame from the nightstand and looked at it. "I'm a father...wow." He was alone in the room, but he found he wanted to say the words out loud to see if they would become more real. But he was still having trouble grasping this. That somewhere in this house, right at this moment, a human being with part of his and part of Cinnamon's genetics existed.

He had assumed that someday, he would have children, most people seemed to, and he didn't think he was immune to the idea. But it was always "someday" never "now." It wasn't that he didn't like kids, some of them were pretty cool, like Roman's daughter, Leah for one. But, he also knew that kids were human beings. Sure, there were a lot of people who boldly went around proclaiming, "I love children!" but that was bull. No one could love every single child that lived on this planet. No matter how nice of a person you were, there were bound to be a few kids out there who would get on your nerves. In fact, if he was to be honest, Dean found that people who proclaimed their love for any and all children were, a lot of times, condescending a-holes that weren't doing children any favors, but were dehumanizing them. He always wanted to ask those people if they would think what they were saying it about any other group of human beings who shared certain characteristics. Such as, "Oh, I love gay people!" or, "I love black people!" Because as far as he was concerned, to claim you loved an entire group of people was saying, "That group are all alike." No group of people were all alike. All children weren't alike, all adults weren't alike. Sub groups weren't even alike. All girl children didn't love pink, all boy children didn't love matchbox cars and all children born in the projects didn't grow up to be criminals, drug addicts, or child abusers.

 _But some do_ , that voice in his head said, softly, but clearly. _Some grow up to be all three, some grow up to be two, and some grow up to be one of those things_ _. So far, you've managed to avoid two of them. What about the third?_ _Can you override your past?_ _Can_ _ **you**_ _be a good father?_

 _I didn't ask for this!_ part of his mind argued. _I wasn't consulted. I had no clue Neil existed until less than 24 hours ago! No one asked me if he should be born, why do I now have to deal with this?_

He was almost ashamed of his thoughts. He should be happy about this, shouldn't he? Roman would be. No, Roman would be a little pissed off that he didn't know earlier, but let's say there had been a legitimate reason why Roman hadn't known about a son of his for nine years. How would Roman react? Dean knew exactly how he'd react. He'd be thrilled to death, and do anything he could to make up to the boy for all the years he'd missed. If the kid needed a family, if his birth mother had been unable to care for him, Roman would bring him home to Jessica and Leah, who would be his new family. Roman's parents would be thrilled to death to have another grandson and the world of the Reigns would be happiness central. But he wasn't Roman. And he had always been _very_ careful to make sure this situation never happened.

_Except for once, obviously._

Cinnamon had been on the pill when they met, even though at first they also used condoms, which he understood, because back then, before he'd met her, he'd had a list of past conquests that was pretty long and a lot of them had been very... _giving_ girls. But, after awhile and after both of them had blood tests together (now, that was a romantic date, he remembered with a snort) and they were both disease free, they stopped with the condoms. The pill was supposed to be 99.9% effective and he thought those odds were good enough for him. _Except that .01% got us,_ he thought.

He knew he could blame Cinnamon, a lot of guys he'd known would put it all on Cinnamon, told themselves that she must have screwed up somehow, maybe she'd deliberately stopped taking the pill and tried to get knocked up. Except that Cinnamon wasn't like that. She had been full of plans back when they were dating, and none of them seemed to involve an ankle biter. Her plans were to get through college, get a good job, and support him so he could devote himself to wrestling without having to worry about how the bills would get paid. He also knew that no matter what, the moment he decided to have sex, he was taking that risk. No matter how much precaution he used, the only way he could have guaranteed to never have to worry about getting a girl pregnant was to never stick it in her in the first place. Once you did, even if she was on the pill, had an IUD, used a diaphragm, and then they used a condom, there was still a risk. So, he was just as responsible for the conception of Neil as she was.

What he didn't know though, was what he was supposed to do about it. Part of him wanted to run out and go, "Hey, Neil, I'm your father! And I'm going to be the best father in the world!" And part of him wanted to run off. He wasn't even sure if he could _be_ a good father. He already had two huge strikes against him, first he was on the road all the time, which limited possible bonding time severely. Second, he had no clue _how_ to be a good father. His own father had been in and out of jail most of his childhood and when he was home, he was a pretty shitty father. He hadn't beaten him, but that was about the only decent thing you could say about him. Mostly, he'd acted like Dean was a cross he had to bear, something that brought in extra food stamp money. Sure, Roman seemed to be a good dad and he knew other guys who were good fathers, but Dean was pretty sure you got some of your best examples on how to parent from your own parents. In his case, all his parents had taught him was what _not_ to do.

He put the picture back and rubbed his eyes, getting the last of the sleep out of them. This was huge, he knew it was huge and he wasn't sure if having sex with Cinnamon (even though it had been totally awesome) was the smartest thing to do, but it was done and couldn't be undone and even if it could, he wouldn't want it to be. _You're going to take this one step at a time,_ he ordered himself. _And right now, you're going to get up and use the bathroom because yeah, you just woke up, it's time to go. Then you'll see where Cinnamon and Neil are and take it from there._ He wasn't upset that Cinnamon wasn't in bed when he woke up, although he wouldn't have minded a little distraction from all this thinking. He assumed that being a parent, she had to get up when the kid did, and weren't kids notorious for getting up early?

There was a bathroom off the master bedroom and he went in there expecting to find a tiny room, fitting the rest of the house, which seemed to be pretty small. To his surprise, it was a good sized room. It didn't have a tub, but it had a walk in shower with two shower heads and a long vanity with two sinks. On the vanity was a towel, a wash cloth, a toothbrush and a disposable razor. And by the way they were laid out, he knew Cinnamon had done it for him, laid all of this out so he could shower and take care of all those morning things that were so awkward when you woke up in a place where you didn't live and hadn't planned on staying. So, he brushed his teeth and took a shower. The dual shower heads was pretty nice, he had to admit, and one of them even had a detachable shower head so you could rinse out all the little cracks and crevices on the human body, get rid of all the soap. He even found a little sample bottle of baby shampoo in the shower, so he didn't have to use her coconut stuff, that he always loved on her, but wasn't too keen on for himself.

When he finished and went back into the bedroom to change, he found his clothes had been neatly folded and put on the chair near the little book case. He darned well knew he hadn't done that last night, they had strewn their clothing everywhere. Cinnamon must have done it when she woke up. He looked at the clock, it read 8:00, a little late, but nothing too terrible. He was supposed to report to the arena at 2:00, but there was time. He really should go to the gym today, but if he didn't have time, he didn't have time.

He found himself taking a deep breath when he left the room, as if he needed to brace himself for what lay ahead. But when he walked out of the room, he walked with that cocky swagger he'd used a lot when he'd known her before. As if he owned the world and everything in it.

* * *

Neil and Cinnamon were in the kitchen, which was small, but neat and sunny with light oak cabinets that just screamed 1980s and older white appliances that did the same. Neil was sitting at a light oak table that matched the cabinets almost perfectly. When he saw Dean coming in, he broke into a grin. "Mom said you spent the night!" he exclaimed, clearly excited Dean was still here. "I can't believe it, Dean Ambrose slept in my house! Had a sleepover with my mother!"

Cinnamon was over at the stove, making breakfast, but she had turned when he walked in and he caught her gaze. They both smiled at the term "sleepover" coming from Neil's mouth, but honestly, what did he expect the kid to say? "Wow, you and my mom knocked boots!" Dean had known what sex was by the time he was Neil's age, not only knew what it was, but also knew adults were way too into it and even knew they often _paid_ for it. But Neil was growing up a lot less jaded, if he knew the facts of life, he probably didn't realize what a driving force it was for adults. Hell, he probably thought of it as a necessary evil for the sake of having children.

"Mom's had guys sleep over before," Neil went on, "Lots of times-"

 _What?_ Dean thought, then was ashamed of himself for his first and instant rush of anger. He had certainly had plenty of sex these last years, what, was Cinnamon supposed to cross her legs and become a born again virgin?

"-but they always slept on the couch or on the futon in the spare room," Neil continued, oblivious to what he was saying. "Never in the same room as Mom."

Cinnamon came over with a cup of coffee, which she put down in front of him. "Well, like I was saying, Neil, this was a little different than those other guys."

"I know." Neil said confidently, then looked at Dean. "And I'm sorry you hurt your back last night. Bray Wyatt is the biggest _jerk_ face. But at least you were comfortable sleeping in Mom's bed."

Dean's eyes went wide for a moment and he almost burst out laughing, but at the last minute, managed to pull back. He looked over at Cinnamon, who flushed bright red and hurried to the stove, turning her back to him. "Yes, Cinnamon, thank you for letting me use your bed, it was really comfortable," he said, doing his best to sound innocent.

"You're welcome," she said, fussing with something on the stove and not looking at him. "I didn't want you to hurt your back, further."

"It feels a lot better this morning," Dean said, sipping the coffee. It was a nice, medium roast, clearly not some cheap store brand, but a coffee shop blend. Cinnamon always did love good coffee. "That massage was better than a professional."

She turned from the stove and gave him a look, but said nothing. Dean looked at Neil. "So, guys have spent the night here before?" he asked, even though it was none of his business. The kid said they always slept on the couch or in the guest room. But, even though it was wrong, he wanted to know more about this.

"Yeah," Neil said. "Mostly wrestlers from the WVW."

"Oh?" Dean looked over at Cinnamon.

"That's enough," Cinnamon said, "Dean doesn't need to know the details. He's only asking to be polite." She shot a look at Dean, telling him he would play along, or he might find himself on the other side of the front door before breakfast. Dean was instantly ashamed of himself.

Neil looked from one to the other. "What's the big deal?"

Cinnamon shrugged. "It's not a big deal." She looked at Dean. "I'm a paramedic. I often work at the WVW, because by law, they have to have someone able to handle medical emergencies and I'm one of the few people who will do it merely for the price of admission for Neil and I. Sometimes when the guys have gotten messed up, I've brought them here to keep an eye on them because they refuse to go to the hospital."

Dean nodded, a mixture of relief and guilt washing through him, as Cinnamon began serving up breakfast, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. He had no right to judge Cinnamon's life, no right to feel glad these guys who spent the night were no more than, well, patients for lack of a better word. Even if she slept with the entire roster of the WVW, he would bet money that wouldn't even be half of the girls he had slept with since he left her. Why was he judging her so harshly? He'd never been the type before to care about someone's past so much.

Then, as he looked at Neil, who was happily eating eggs, he realized part of the problem was Neil. He didn't want Neil to grow up as he had, with a mother that kept bringing home a different guy all the time. _Is that being a better parent?_ he wondered. _Actually giving a shit what happens?_ Yeah, it probably was, but only part.

"Mom," Neil asked, as they were eating. "Do I have to go to swimming lessons today? Can I stay here with Dean?"

Cinnamon shook her her head. "Sorry, you have to go. I paid good money for those lessons, you wanted those lessons, you're going to go to those lessons."

"But Mom!" Neil looked unhappy. "You got to talk to him last night. Now you're going to get to talk to him _today_. Yesterday you got to talk to Roman and Seth, it's just not fair!"

"I know," Cinnamon admitted. "But...there's some things Dean and I have to talk about and you have to go to swimming class."

"But, _Moooooooooooom!_ " Neil wailed. "Why do _you_ have to talk to Dean Ambrose? You had all last night to talk to him! You should be done talking to him, it should be _my_ turn."

"Neil, no arguments," Cinnamon said, her voice firm. "I'm the parent, you're the child, remember?"

It was obvious that Neil was at the end of his rope with all this "You're the kid" crap, and part of Dean couldn't blame him. He knew Cinnamon was right, they had to talk and they couldn't do it with Neil around. Still, if he was putting it together, the kid's favorite wrestlers kept popping in and out of his house, and every time, he was shuffled out of there. He imagine when he was a kid how he would have felt if Brett Hart had been coming over and every time he did, he (Dean) would be kicked out of the house. He would have been pretty upset, no, he would have been downright pissed off. He didn't want to take liberties where he hadn't been given permission, but he decided to take a risk. "Do you have swimming lessons on Wednesday?" he asked.

Neil shook his head. "No, Tuesdays and Thursdays are swim days. Wednesday is culture day." He said "culture" the way other folks might say, "laundry" or "paint the house" day.

"We try to find an activity he and I can do that is fun and more mind expanding than wrestling, which would be the only thing he'd do if he had his way," Cinnamon explained, trying not to grin too broadly. "We go to museums or art galleries. Sometimes they have concerts in the park on Wednesday evenings and we attend those. If money is tight, we go to the library. Our local library has some wonderful things for children, and if they aren't having anything, we look at books."

 _If money is tight,_ Dean thought. _I should be helping with that, shouldn't I? Should I offer to pay back child support or something? Get the kid on my insurance plan?_

"I have to read at least one book a week in the summer," Neil said, looking terribly put upon.

"Neil, you like reading and you know it," Cinnamon said.

Neil shrugged. "Depends on the book. Harry Potter is okay, even though I'm not too keen on fantasy. I liked Holes and Lord of the Flies."

"Lord of the Flies?" Dean tipped his head to one side. "We read that book when I was in High School. You must be pretty smart to read that one at your age."

"We read it together," Cinnamon explained. "And discussed it together."

"Yeah, it was like Mom was afraid the book would turn me into Jack or something," Neil said, rolling his eyes. "But," he looked down at the floor and almost whispered, "I didn't like it when Simon and Piggy died."

"I didn't either," Dean admitted. "Especially, Piggy. He might have been a fat kid with ass-ma, but he was cool in his own way."

Neil looked at Dean and smiled, a sort-of shy smile some people get when they realize that someone they admire a lot shares some of the same ideas as they do. A smile that says, "Maybe it's not just hero worship I have for you, maybe we really are kindred spirits." "Yeah," he said. "Piggy was all right."

"Anyway," Dean said, realizing they had been side tracked. "If your mother will let you skip culture day, or at least part of it, I'll stop by and you can show me your wrestling ring and... we can hang around together a little bit. Make up for your mother hogging me the entire time."

Neil's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really?" he asked, a bit of disbelief mixed with a whole lot of happy excitement. "You'll come over here? _Really?_ "

"Yeah, really," Dean said, "Well, as long as your Mom approves." He looked over at Cinnamon who was smiling her approval. "And I think she does."

"That sounds fine," Cinnamon said. "As long as you're able to."

Dean shrugged. He didn't have a house show Wednesday. He thought he might have some autograph or meet and greet thing for Wednesday in Richmond Virginia, where they were scheduled to do house shows Thursday through Saturday, but he was fairly sure he could get out of it. He'd have a talk with Triple H when he went in today, and pretty much explain that he was taking the time off, like it or not. He normally did everything the WWE expected of him, and then some, but for once he felt his personal life took a priority here. "Don't worry about my schedule," he told her. "That's my problem."

She nodded and turned to Neil, "Cory and his mom will be here in ten minutes, so you'd better finish breakfast and get your swim gear. You don't want to keep her waiting."

_End of Part 5_


	6. Chapter 6

Knowing he was going to get a chance to spend some time with Dean on Wednesday, Neil was a lot happier about having to go to swim classes. He swallowed down the last few bites of breakfast, then jumped from his chair and raced around getting ready for swim class. When Cory's mom beeped the horn of her car, Cinnamon showed him to the door wishing him to have fun. He said he would, then hollered so Dean could hear, "And I'll see you Wednesday, right?"

"Sure thing, Champ," Dean called back.

"Yippee!" he shouted, racing out the door. Cinnamon waiting to make sure he got into the car safely, then waved and shut the door, returning to the kitchen.

"What time do I have to get you to the arena or to your hotel?" she asked. "Or do you need to go now?"

He shook his head. "I have to report in at 2:00. I don't need to stop at the hotel. I just need to get my business clothes out of your car. He had carried them out in a small gym bag last night, but left them in the car when they got here.

She shook her head. "No, I took them out of the car this morning. Actually, they're in the drier right now."

He looked at her and blinked. She'd washed his clothes? "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I was just going to take them out and hang them up to air, but they looked like they could use a cleaning, so I figured I might as well. I had some permanent press stuff that needed to be washed anyway, so I figured I'd just combine them and make one full load."

"Thank you," he said, feeling that the two words were pretty lame for what she'd done. He hated doing laundry. He remembered when they were dating, he would bring his laundry over to her place because she actually had a washer and drier. Now that he thought about it, she had done his laundry most of the time for him then. He remembered that it hadn't been a big deal, no declaration of, "Mox, because I am awesome woman, I shall do your laundry!" She just started saying, "I'm going to do my whites, so I'll do yours too," or, "Good, if we combine your darks and mine, I've got a full load." He had been younger then, and even though he grew up in a house where rarely did anyone do anything for him, he had this jaded idea of relationships based on older movies, old sit-coms and other unrealistic sources that made it seem like a woman doing laundry for her boyfriend was a perfectly reasonable thing to expect among "normal" people. He realize now that it was in truth, a really nice thing for her to do. Like all the times she drove him to matches, made him meals, or patched his jeans.

"You were pretty good to me," he said, looking at her. "I don't know if I told you how much I appreciated all the stuff you did for me, like my laundry all."

She shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal. And if I recall, you helped me, too. You helped me clean the place sometimes. And you'd mow the lawn for me. We were in a relationship, we did things for each other because that's what you do." At that precise moment, the buzzer on the drier went off, and she hurried to the laundry room, which was off the kitchen.

She returned a few minutes later with his "business casual" clothes hung neatly on hangers and a rolling basket of laundry with a pole running across the top, similar to the ones used in laundromats. There were hangers on the poles, those plastic ones you saw everywhere, most of them in brown, but a few in blue. His clothes were on brown hangers. She studied his button down shirt. "Maybe I should run an iron over this," she mused.

He shook his head, looking at it. "It's permanent press," he argued. "The whole point of permanent press is that you don't have to iron it. And to be honest? I think we have more important things to do than fuck around ironing my clothes."

She smiled. "Guess it's time to get to the point, huh?"

Dean nodded. "It's pretty obvious, Neil doesn't know I'm his father or that you and I even know each other, does he?"

She shook her head. "No. If I had told him, he would have told his friends and they probably would have thought he was making it up or something. Also, if he saw you every week on TV and knew you were his father, I was afraid he'd go crazy wanting to meet you."

"What have you told Neil about his father?" Dean asked.

She took a blouse out of the basket and hung it on a hanger. "He knows that when I met his father, he was a wrestler. He knows both of us were young and without families to help us, like most young couples have. He believes his father and I parted company before he was born and didn't even know I was pregnant. I told him that I didn't believe his father was ready to handle the responsibility of being a father and that's why I never contacted him to tell him about Neil. I also told him that if his father wasn't part of his life by the time he was eighteen, I would tell him who his father was and do my best to help him find him."

"Did you really have no clue how to contact me?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "I could have if I had to, I know my way around the indies enough. I'm sure if Neil had needed a kidney or something, I could have found you. Of course, when you made it to the WWE, I knew exactly who you were, and I worried because everyone and I mean _everyone_ who's into wrestling tells Neil how much he looks like you. It's uncanny."

"Okay, if you insist, our children will look like me," Dean said softly, lost in a memory, "But they better have your hair and eyes."

"Yeah," she nodded, remember when he had said those words the first time. "And that's exactly what happened. Well, no, I do see some things, like he has my teeth and our noses are similar enough that it could be my nose he got. He's got my ears too, but everything else, the shape of the eyes, the cheeks, everything is you. The almost spooky thing though, is the way he acts like you and was doing so way before he saw you on TV."

"Oh?" He was curious.

"When he's upset or angry, he does that fingers curling into fist things you do. And he does it just like you, I mean exactly like you. He sneers like you. And he can get that same so happy it's scary look that you've been wearing on and off ever since Shield broke up." She shook her head as she pulled another shirt out of the laundry hamper, this one obviously one of Neil's and started hanging it on a hanger. "I could give you a million examples, but you'll see for yourself."

"Will I?" he asked, pointedly, looking at her.

"That's up to you," she responded.

"Are we going to tell him I'm his father?"

"Again, up to you."

In other circumstances, this verbal sparing might be amusing, but he felt like too much was at stake here. "No, it's up to you, too. I mean, I'm not an asshole, Cinn. I'm not going to go hire a lawyer and try to sue for custody. You've raised him for over nine years without my help, I wouldn't try to take him away." He scratched his arm, only in part because it itched, mostly to give him something to do while he collected his thoughts. "If you tell me to go away and never come back, I'll do it. I'll be pissed, but I'll do it. I don't blame you for not telling me about Neil. You thought I was someone who'd kill your dog for the hell of it, no one would blame you for not being eager to put a child in my path, even if the child was mine."

She finished adjusting Neil's small blue button down shirt on the hanger and hanging it on the rod attached to the laundry cart. "I did figure out that something wasn't quite right about that whole scenario," she confessed, her voice soft. "But by that point, I wasn't sure what was going on. I should have contacted you and told you of my suspicions, but by the time I was putting it together, Neil was born and, well, it was hard enough having an infant. He became my world, too. You lose your mind a bit when you become a parent, at least I did. All that mattered was Neil. He's still the most important person in my life, but I am able to think of other things too." She smiled as she started hanging up another shirt, one of hers this time.

"Okay, let me put it this way then," Dean countered. "Do you think we should tell Neil I'm his father?"

She paused in her hanging of the shirt and studied him. "I would like to do that," she admitted. "However, I won't do it unless you're willing to commit to the idea that you _are_ Neil's father. I don't want to disappoint him by telling him, 'here's your dad!' and then his Dad walks out of his life, or only comes around once a year or so, if he's lucky. If you want me to tell him you're his father, then damn it, you will _be_ his father. If you can't make that agreement, then I'd rather Neil continue to think his father isn't around."

"Cinn, I can't be there every day," Dean protested. "You know I'm with the WWE. Our schedule is hell on a stick. I'm working 300 days per year and the days I don't work, I often have promotional work to do. I can't be a full time Dad. Hell, even Roman, who's the most devoted Dad in the world can't be a full time Dad. It's impossible."

"How does Roman do it?" Cinnamon countered, going back to her clothes hanging. "I'll bet he keeps in touch any way he can, right? Skype, phone calls, so on and so forth?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he Skypes every day when we're on the road, at least every day he can. She sends him a text message every night that he reads before he goes to bed, he sends her one every night that she reads when she wakes up. It's enough to make you want to shoot yourself up with insulin, just for protection."

She giggled at this, as he suspected she might, but also shook her head, indicating that she still wanted to keep this conversation serious. "I'm not asking you to do the impossible, but if Roman can find time to be a good dad, so can you. You can do those things too, you can Skype with him, you can text him, email him, whatever it takes."

"I'm not good with technology," he mumbled.

"Then _get_ good with it," she countered, not sounding angry, but firm. "I'm sure Roman could show you." She sighed and shook her head. "Or, don't. The choice is yours, and I don't want to influence you."

"I'm not saying I won't," he said, knowing he'd said the wrong thing and rushing to explain. "I'm just saying I'm not good with it. But for Neil's sake, I'll learn enough to at least get by with it. And if I can't, well, I do have a cell phone. I don't know exactly how all of it works, but I can talk on it. I'll call him. And he can call me."

She nodded. "That works. So, do you want to be there when I tell him?"

He frowned. "Do you think I should be?"

She shrugged as she placed another blouse on a brown hanger onto the bar. "There are advantages and disadvantages to both. If you're there, you can help answer questions, and he will have a lot of them. On the other hand, if I tell him first, he'll have a little time to get used to the idea before he sees you, some time to collect himself. He gravitated to you the first time he saw the Shield debut in Survivor Series."

"Really?" He was slightly embarrassed at how much this thrilled him. "What was _your_ reaction when you saw me?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember, it took me awhile to notice you, I was too busy noticing Roman."

Before he could pull himself back, he found himself glaring at her, feeling instantly angry and jealous. _Of course, everyone sees Roman first!_ Then he saw her eyes were glittering brightly and she was trying hard to suppress a laugh. "ha ha, very funny," he muttered, "women _always_ want Roman."

"Not this woman," Cinnamon said, as she hung up the last shirt. "But I knew you were with FCW and then NXT. I kept track of you on You Tube and the 'net. But that was the first time Neil saw you. And like I said, he just gravitated to you."

"Maybe he sensed something?" Dean wondered. "A connection or something."

"Maybe," Cinnamon shrugged. "He was heartbroken when The Shield broke up. I let him stay home from school that Tuesday after Raw, he was that upset."

"It wasn't my idea," Dean said quickly. "We were told that was the way it was going to be."

Cinnamon smiled. "I didn't think it was. I have to admit, I called out sick that day, and I never call out sick to work. But, I think we both felt like we'd lost a friend. I know that sounds dumb, but that's one of the reasons I love wrestling, because for all the stupid, all the overplay, nothing fictional has ever made me feel so strongly that I had to miss work."

"Yeah," Dean scratched his head, realizing this was a good way to get the conversation to go in other directions he wanted. "You said you're a paramedic? What happened to college?"

She stared at him. " _Neil_ happened, Dean. Lynn from the boxer rescue group was a huge help, but I couldn't go to college and support a baby. I lost the scholarship. But, it was okay. Lynn and I worked out a schedule and she helped me baby sit while I worked as a waitress. Then, the lawsuit came through."

"Lawsuit?"

She nodded. "It was going on while we were dating. I had a law suit against the trucking company of the truck that hit and killed my parents." She paused for a moment, looking pained, even after all these years, then took a deep breath. "I didn't mention it when we were dating before, because to be honest, at this point I never though I'd collect. The company was being really hard assed about it, even though they were _so_ clearly wrong. The truck had failed safety inspections and they were still using it. and the driver had been driving for over 48 hours, by orders of the company, which is highly illegal. But, I just thought I'd never collect. Money was so tight back then, that if I thought I might have a fortune waiting for me, I would have gone nuts. So, I just ignored it. I glanced at any paperwork they sent me and signed whatever needed signing, but it didn't mean anything to me."

Dean nodded. He vaguely remembered both legal large white envelopes with the names of attorneys on them coming to Cinnamon's mailbox on a regular basis. He may have even asked about them, but she had shrugged and said it was just part of her parents estate matters. Since he had no clue what that entailed (and honestly, really still didn't) and she seemed to not care, he had not cared either.

"But, finally, it all went to court and got resolved in my favor." She shrugged. "I got a good chunk up front, which the lawyers took a lot of, the rest I get in a structured settlement. The upfront money I put half away for Neil when he either goes to college or turns 30. The other half, I used to pay for me to go to school to be a paramedic and to move here and buy this house." She looked around the kitchen and there was an unmistakable look of pride on her face, the confidence that she had made the right choice. "I know this isn't much," she said. "But I own it. No mortgage. I wanted to make sure I could always put a roof over Neil's head. On top of that, I get some money in the structured settlement every year. Half of that goes into Neil's college fund. Out of the other half, half of that goes into a retirement plan for me, the other half I use to supplement my income."

"Do you have to work a lot?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "I actually have a deal worked out around here so I get the summers and school vacations off to be with Neil. That's why I appreciate the settlement, because that's the money I live on in those times. Yes, if there is some disaster and every emergency personnel is needed, I will work. Usually I do end up working on the fourth of July for that very reason, but most of the time, I'm able to have the summer off, thus why I'm not working now. And during the school year, I usually work the late night shift. It works out because I leave when Neil is asleep and I get home as he's just about to head off to school, usually."

"It must be hard to find someone to watch him overnight," he pondered, part of him thinking about how he could help out. Babysitting was out of the question.

"Not as hard as you may think," Cinnamon disagreed. "Neil is a sound sleeper, pretty much never wakes up during the night. Whoever watches out for him can sleep, that's not a problem and the futon in the spare room is really quite comfortable. The last few years, I've had a group of college girls who rotate taking care of him as their schedules allow. I mean, I can't afford to pay the big bucks, but how many jobs are going to pay you to sleep?"

"Good point." He remembered when he was wrestling as a weekend warrior and working crappy jobs during the week. Hell, if he knew of a job where he could sleep eight hours, he probably would have taken it for every night, just because it would save him on rent.

"And, I'm lucky, the neighbors next door adore Neil. He's a surrogate grandson to them, so if ever there is an emergency and I can't get someone to stay here, I can just send him over there, they'll watch out for him. Same if I'm late coming home and the babysitter has to leave to make class or their job. And, sometimes, I have WVW guys staying here because they need a place to crash for a bit, and when they do, it's free babysitting."

"I'd like to help," he blurted out. "I mean, pay for the kid... you know, child support. I mean, I'm not made of money..." The moment that last part was out of his mouth, he wanted to smack himself. Yes, compared to other superstars in the WWE he wasn't making huge money. Cena, for example, would probably find it too bothersome to take Dean's checks to the bank and would blow his nose in them instead. But, he was sure he made more money than she did.

"We don't need money," she said. "We do all right."

"I'm not asking if you _need_ money," Dean countered. "But that is my son, I should be helping to pay to raise him."

"I didn't give you a choice in whether or not to have him," she disagreed. "So, I don't think it's fair that I expect you to pay."

"The courts would see it a lot different, I'm sure," He pointed out. "You could take me to court and sue me for back child support and probably win. But, I'm not saying that I _have_ to pay to help out, I'm saying I _want_ help you with some of the responsibilities. I can't be the full time father, I can't be here every night you have to work, but I _can_ help with the fiscal difficulties."

She leaned over and put her hand on his. "Thank you," she said, softly. "We can talk about that later. Right now, you need to decide, do you want to be there when I tell Neil? Or should I tell him tomorrow before you come over?"

"What do you think is best?" he said, finding himself flipping his hand over so he could wrap his fingers around hers. All these years and that simple touch, just holding hands, still had the power to send his blood racing. Part of him wanted to scoop her up and carry her back to her homey little peach and apricot bedroom, but he knew they needed to get these things straight first. "For Neil, I mean. What would be the easiest for him to handle, make him the most comfortable?"

She thought for a moment. "Let me ask you, let's say when you were a kid, your mother had told you that Bret Hart was your father, what would you have wanted?"

"For her to go to rehab," he said, shrugging. "Then again, that's what I always wanted. But I really would have thought she'd taken some bad shit if she was saying Bret Hart was my father."

She chuckled. "C'mon, be serious."

"I _am_ serious!" He grinned.

"Okay then, let's say someone you trusted, someone you knew would never lie to you told you that. Would you rather she told you alone first, or with Bret in the room?"

He thought about it, because it was a tough one. But, then he realized that no, it was actually pretty simple. If Bret was there when he was told, he might do something stupid in his excitement, something that would embarrass him every time he thought about it later. If he was told before, he would have time to get himself together before meeting him. "Okay, I feel like I _should_ be here when you do, but I have to be honest, if it were me, I'd rather hear about it in private, with someone I trust."

"Then I'll tell him before you come over tomorrow."

"Do you want to come to see Main Event and the Smackdown taping?" He asked, almost shyly. "I can get you and Neil tickets. Just as good as the ones Roman and Seth got you for Raw."

She looked at him. They were still holding hands, and when their gazes met, they both saw the same fire that had been in them last night. "Yeah, I'd like that, so would Neil." She said, licking her lips, "And, if you think it's a good idea, maybe I should tell Neil before the show, after I drop you off at the arena."

He smiled, knowing exactly what she was doing. She was making it so he could spend the night here again, with her. He shivered, feeling himself harden as the memories of last night, not just the first time, but the several times after that when they had once again gotten to know each others bodies. She wanted more, and he did too. He squeezed her hand. "What is going on, here, Cinn?" he asked, needing to know, but afraid to know too. "What are _we_ to each other, now?"

"You're my Mox," she said. "And I'm your Cinnamon girl, we established that last night. Right now, I want to get you and Neil situated in your relationship before I worry about you and I. I won't put a leash on you, Mox. I know you and I know you have to be on the road. We just found each other again, I don't want to add the burden of having you have to worry about if you're going to cheat on me. I've heard you have at least one...friends with benefits situation, I'm not going to dictate what you should do about those. Just know, like I said last night, if you and I are alone, especially if you come here, to my house, I own you for that time. And I will claim what's mine, just as you can claim what's yours. I never put a leash on you before, did I?"

She never had, but she didn't have to. By the time they had ended up in bed together, he hadn't wanted anyone else. His only experience with women before her had been ring rats or the sister of wrestlers, or sisters of girlfriends of wrestlers. It was all physical and never more than a few casual encounters. But Cinnamon had been in an entirely different class. She was a good girl, only had one lover before him, when she was in High school. Sex with her had been everything he always thought it was supposed to be and more.

He stared into her eyes, drinking in the intensity of them, feeling the fire burning through them and out of them. And he knew she saw the same fire in his own eyes. "Cinnamon?" he whispered.

She rose and still holding his hand, let him down the hall to her bedroom.

* * *

She dropped him off at the arena at 1:50. He promised tickets for her and Neil would be at the box office and she promised they would be there.

When he went to the locker room, Roman was there already too, finishing up a conversation with Leah on his cell phone. Dean busied himself with his locker, while Roman asked Leah about her day. He had something he wanted to talk to Roman about, but he didn't want to stop him from bonding with his daughter. He did though, point to himself, wave, and then to the phone. Roman nodded back.

"Yes, Leah Belle, Daddy loves you and misses you. You take care. Uncle Dean sends his love." Roman looked over at Dean and grinned. "Yes, and a hug and a kiss, too. Yes, I'll leave you a message before you go to bed. Love you."

When he ended the call, he looked at Dean. "You look good. Relaxed. Like you managed to get a good night's sleep even though you never made it back to the hotel."

Dean shrugged. "It's probably because my clothes are all clean," he said. "Cinnamon washed them this morning." _Yeah, we hardly got any sleep._

"That was nice of her," Roman said, as he opened up his own locker and put his phone in it. "So, am I on your shit list, bro?"

Dean looked at him for a moment, as if he was considering what his answer should be. "No," he finally said. "Well, maybe. It depends on if you're willing to help me."

"Sure," Roman said, without hesitation. "You're my bro, I'll always help you if I can. What do you need?"

"Advice," Dean said, looking serious. "I need you to tell me how you manage to stay close to your daughter when the two of you are usually so far away."

End of Part six


	7. Chapter 7

When Neil came rushing into the house after swimming lessons, he was surprised to see his mother was sitting on one of the living room couches. Normally, his Mom rarely sat during the day. She usually was doing _something,_ laundry, cleaning, making cookies, sewing, or working in her garden. Usually, sitting and relaxing was for night times. But here she was, sitting on the sofa, and even stranger, she had the box next to her, a box about the size of a shoebox, but it had a lock on it. She kept it in her closet and it used to _be_ a shoebox, but she caught him once trying to look in it and she took it away from him and bought the locked box instead. She had told him that "someday" she would show him what was in the box, but she always made it seem like "someday" was an eternity away. Had "someday" come?

"Hi, Mom," he called out. "Are you okay? Is Dean still here?" He still couldn't believe it, Dean Ambrose had spent the night in his house, in the same bed as his mother. And she could talk about that whole bad back thing as much as she wanted, but he suspected there was more. Neil bet she and Dean had even kissed. And while normally that adult stuff seemed kind of icky and stupid, there was something really cool about thinking that his mother had kissed Dean Ambrose and that he had kissed her back. If Cory, his best friend, knew, he'd probably even say they had sex, but Neil wasn't sure. Sex was a pretty big thing, his mother always told him you had to make very sure you loved the person before you did something as serious as had sex with them. His mom wasn't the type to have sex with a guy she just met that night, even someone like Dean Ambrose, but kissing was probably okay. Maybe even second base? Well, he didn't want to think about his mom taking her top off either, that was kind of icky too, but yeah, it wasn't that hard to imagine his Mom and Dean kissing.

She smiled. "I'm fine, and Dean has gone to the arena to get ready for tonight." When she saw his frown, she shook her head. "Now, come on, you'll be seeing him tomorrow."

"I know," he said, sighing. "But I was hoping he'd still be here. I didn't even tell Cory he was here, because I was afraid Cory would think I was lying, so I had to keep like the biggest secret _ever,_ all to myself."

Her smile turned into a grin. "Well, I have some news for you, take care of your bathing suit and come back, we'll talk."

He rushed around the corner and into the bathroom with his gym bag. In less than a minute he had his bathing suit soaking in a sink full of water to help get rid of some of the chlorine and he had hung his towel over the door to the shower to dry. When he was done, he hurried back to the living room and leaped on the couch on the other end, so the box was in the middle of the two of them. "What's the news?"

She turned so she was sitting with her back to the arm of the sofa, tucking her legs under her in that position some people called "Indian Style" even though you weren't supposed to call them Indians anymore, they were Native Americans. Neil did the same thing, deciding they could both sit politically incorrectly together. "First, do you want to go and see Smackdown being taped and watch Main event? Dean is going to make sure there are tickets for us, just like he did last night."

Neil couldn't believe it. Last night Raw, tonight Smackdown and Main event? How could he be so lucky! He started to nod, then stopped. "Is Dean still coming over tomorrow?" he asked, sensing this might be one of those trade off situations, and his mother would tell him that because they were seeing the show tonight, Dean wouldn't be able to come over tomorrow, and he wasn't sure he wanted that.

His mom nodded. "Yes, he's still coming over tomorrow. So, do you want to go?"

Neil nodded. "Yeah! Two days in a row of getting to go see live WWE? That's awesome! Will our seats be just as good as they were last night?"

His mom nodded again and Neil was starting to feel that this was one of those magical days where nothing could go wrong. "They may not be in the same place, but they'll be just as good, I'm sure."

"Cool!" Neil wanted to bounce up and down on the sofa, but he knew his Mom didn't like that too much. But he couldn't resist a few small bounces. "Is that what you want to talk to me about?"

"Not just that." His mother pulled the box over, so it was facing her. The box wasn't locked anymore, and she opened it. "Neil, I always told you that some day I would tell you about your father, right?"

He nodded, his eyes wide. Was his dad in the box? No, of course not, that was the _dumbest_ question his brain had ever come up with. Or, maybe his dad had died and the ashes were in the box? That would suck, but no, his mother always said his dad was alive.

"Well, I think it's time you knew who your father was," his mom said.

"Is it one of the guys from WVW?" Neil asked, unable to resist speculating. "Like Uncle Jasper?" Jasper Coleman was one of his favorites. He had helped get the ring in his back yard built for his birthday. He had even taken Neil's Mom out a couple times, and Cory told him he might end up Neil's stepfather, which Neil thought wouldn't be so bad, but then Uncle Jasper and Mom just became good friends, but that was okay, because Neil could still call him Uncle Jasper and he still came over the house sometimes, just to spend time with them.

"No," she shook her head. "It's not anybody in WVW. I would have told you if it was."

"But my dad _is_ a wrestler, right?" He asked. That was _very_ important to him, that his father was a professional wrestler. He didn't think his Mom would have lied about that, but he wanted to make sure.

"Very much so," Cinnamon said. "And his ring name, when I knew him, was Jon Moxley."

He thought for a moment, the name sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure where he'd heard it before. Had this Moxley come to one of the invasions at WVW? A lot of wrestlers came to those... maybe he'd even met his dad and hadn't even known it!

"He has another name now he goes by," his mom continued.

"What _is_ it?" he asked. Maybe his dad was one of the ROH guys! He liked ROH. It was on a little late on Sundays, but if he didn't have any school on Mondays, sometimes his Mom let him watch it. Wouldn't that be _tripping_ if like, his Dad was Adam Cole or AJ Styles or one of those guys? Cory would have a fit! Cory, who was his best friend in the world, but sometimes would rub it in that he had a dad who came and took him for visits to his house almost every weekend. Well, see if Cory bragged so much about having a dad if Neil's dad turned out to be Adam Cole or someone like that!

His mother looked at him, fixing her gaze on his. "Dean Ambrose." And he heard her say it, and he started to laugh, because she had to be joking, right? I mean, Dean Ambrose, his father? His all time favorite wrestler? His father? It was ridiculous. Sure, everyone said he looked like Dean, but still, he wasn't cool enough to have a Dad like Dean Ambrose.

"Good one, Mom," he said, shaking his head. But she wasn't laughing. She opened the box then, pulled something out and handed it to him. It was a photograph, and he took it.

There was Mom, but she looked younger. She was sitting on a couch he'd never seen before, and sitting right next to her, his arm around her and looking younger too, but the both of them looking as if they were very much a couple was- "Dean Ambrose," he whispered.

"Yes," she said. "And I have more of them, too." She held a handful of photographs in her hand.

"How-" he said, then stopped abruptly. He knew how babies were made, how he'd been made, and he really didn't need his mother going into detail about that. (Although, if they had made _him,_ maybe they made _another_ baby last night- but no, let's not think about that) "Why?" he started, then stopped again. Gosh, he had _so_ many questions, why couldn't he figure out how to _ask_ any of them?

"Take a deep breath, big man," Cinnamon suggested. "I know this is overwhelming."

He nodded, taking the deep breath as she suggested, "But it's awesome, too. I really _do_ look like him don't I?" People who were into wrestling had told him that since that Survivor Series when Shield made their debut, and sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he thought he could see it too, but most of the time, he thought people were probably just being nice. His hair was so bright and like his mothers, and Dean was so cool looking. If he did look like Dean, he thought it was maybe because he'd watched him so carefully, that he could imitate him really well.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. "And yes, you do."

Now that he thought about it, he realized he should have wondered. I mean, his mom was cool and all, but she and Dean had become really friendly, _really_ fast. Like they just met backstage and she invited him over to their house and he came and had a sleepover. That wasn't _norma_ _l._ He should have realized they knew each other. And they were still pretty good friends. "Mom," he asked, "If the two of you loved each other enough to-" He wanted to say 'have sex' but he was afraid he'd sound weird or something, so he changed it, "-make me, why did you leave each other?"

"I've told you, honey, it's complicated." Neil noticed his mom looked uncomfortable. "Some day I'll tell you, more, but right now, I don't think you'll understand and I think I'll confuse you."

"When people break up, they usually are mad," Neil said, slowly, because he wanted to think about the words as he spoke them. "You and Dean didn't seem mad at each other. I mean, you brought him home, that's not mad. You don't have sleepovers with people you're mad at." He decided to leave it at sleepover and not throw in his speculation that they might have even gotten as far as second base. And he certainly wasn't going to ask if they might have made another baby, no way.

"It's been a long time," Cinnamon explained, or at least tried to explain. "Sometimes, when something happens, it seems really big and terrible at the time, but then you find out it wasn't so bad after all, or you realize you might have over reacted to things. That's what happened with Dean- your father- and I. Things happened that seemed really important at the time, they seemed huge. But, then I found out, recently, that what I thought wasn't quite the way it was. Not only that, but time has passed and things that once seemed like the most important things in the world, problems that can't be solved, have... faded a little. They don't seem so big anymore."

"Time heals wounds?" he asked, remembering he had heard that expression on TV or in a movie or something.

"Exactly!" Cinnamon gave him a grin. "That fits it perfectly, you're so smart!"

Neil shrugged. People were always telling him he was smart, and yes, he always got good marks on his tests, or at least not the terrible marks. He was in advanced math, and people were always saying that math was super hard. But he didn't always feel smart. Sometimes, he felt downright dumb. "How did you two meet?" he asked.

"I used to go to his matches when he was in a small company. We met there."

"Like WVW? Were you, like, the paramedic there?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't a paramedic then, I was in college. I didn't become a paramedic until after you were born. You knew that."

He did know it, but he had just forgotten it. He wanted to ask more questions about how they met and what it was like, but he also had some questions he knew his mother wouldn't want him to ask, but he wanted to know, so he decided to see if he could get away with one of them. "Mom, why didn't you tell him you were going to have me?"

She bit her lip, which he knew was a sign she would rather he hadn't asked that question, but she would try to answer it. "I've told you this before, Neil. I felt he wasn't ready to be a father. His wrestling career meant so much to him, and being a parent is an awesome responsibility. My first concern, back then, just as it is now, is for you. You are the most important person in the world to me, and I always tried to make sure any decisions I made were what was best for you. And I felt that it was best for you not to have contact with your father until you were older."

Something didn't ring true with that, and Neil knew it. The words were saying one thing, but they could also mean another. _Mom said_ _ **he**_ _wasn't ready to be a father._ he thought, _**His**_ _wrestling career was important. That doesn't sound like she wanted what was best for_ _ **me,**_ _that sounds like she wanted what was best for_ _ **him.**_ _So, Mom thinks that what was best for_ _ **him**_ _was not to have a kid._ _That what was best for_ _ **him**_ _was not,_ _ **me.**_ _"_ What changed?" he asked, "How come it's okay for him to know about me, now?"

"You're older now," she said, studying him carefully. "And he's older too. I know to you, it sounds like we were both very much adults when you were born, but we were both pretty young. Too young to be good parents."

"You're a good parent," he pointed out. She was too, at least as far as he could tell. Sam had a mother and father and they were good parents, but sometimes one of them said one thing and another said another thing and they'd get mad at each other over it. Cory's mom was a pretty good Mom, but she would go on dates and leave Cory with his father or an Aunt or sometimes even here. His Mom never went on dates. His mom also did cool stuff like play Hot Lava with him, or even mess around in his wrestling ring with him. Heck, she even organized and got the ring built for him. That alone made her a really good mom! But, what about this? She had a baby, she had him, even though it wasn't best for Dean. Something seemed a little- or maybe even a lot, wrong with this.

"Thank you, I try to be." She reached out and stroked his hair, like she did when he was upset, but he didn't want her to know he was upset, so he pulled away. Not hard, but enough that she knew he didn't need to be comforted. "But I did make a lot of mistakes. I always did what I thought was best for you, and I thought what was best was that you grew up without your father being part of your life until I was sure he could handle it. He's matured now, and I think he's ready to be your father."

"So, is he going to live here?" he asked, keeping his head down so his mother couldn't look into his eyes and see what he was really feeling, because he always had trouble hiding his true feelings from his mother, she was just good like that.

"No," Cinnamon said. "But he will try to visit. He doesn't really live anywhere when you think about it. He's on the road with the WWE all the time. He does have a place to live in Las Vegas, but he did say he would do whatever he could to make it here to spend time with you. And he's going to call you from the road. He's not into the internet like some folks, but he does have a cell phone, he will call you when he can."

Neil nodded, still refusing to look into her eyes. "That's cool. When do we have to go to wrestling?"

"We have a few hours before we have to go," she said. "We should have lunch, we can talk more."

"No," he said, because he did not want to talk more, he wanted time to think, because this was both wonderful and scary and he needed time to sort it out. "I'm not hungry right now," he lied. Swimming always made him hungry. "Can I go outside for a bit?"

"Sure, honey," she said.

He got up from the sofa and ran outside, into the back yard.

It was hot out, August in West Virginia was always hot. But his ring was shaded by oak trees, which would mean it would get sticky and leafy come fall, but it meant it was cooler than a lot of other places around the house. He climbed up into it.

He loved his wrestling ring. It was the _best_ birthday present he had ever got, and he'd bet it was the best birthday present he ever _would_ get. The WVW guys said it was better than some of the rings they had learned on, even better than some of the rings they had fought on _professionally_. It was sturdy, yet it had some bounce to it. Yeah, the posts were heavily padded and the "ropes" were padded with garden hose, which professional rings didn't have, but if he didn't have that, his mother would never let him play on it unless she watched and okayed his every move. As it was, he knew she watched him out the window a lot more than she said she did.

He climbed on the ropes of one of the corners and raised his arms, pretending to pander to an invisible crowd, imagining people shouting his name.

_Neil! Neil!_

No, Neil alone didn't work.

 _Neil Nolan!_ (stomp stomp stomp) _Neil Nolan!_ (stomp stomp stomp)

Close. Maybe people would drag his first name out, as if it were two syllables.

 _Neeeeil No-lan!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) _Neeeeil No-lan!_

Better. So close.

 _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap)

Yeah, now that was it, that was the one. The chant people would have for him when his day came.

 _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap)

He could picture it now, a stadium just as full as the stadium was last night. But instead of him being in the audience, he was in the ring, about to face his biggest enemy. Who, he didn't know yet, but it didn't matter, because he would face them and he would win and the crowd was _so_ behind him.

 _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) _Neeil Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap)

Or, maybe even:

 _Let's go Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) _Let's go Am-brose!_ (Clap, clap, clapclapclap) And he imagined himself looking up the ramp, and there at the top, where nobody but he could see him was Dean Ambrose, his _father_ , looking at him and he was-

- _Frowning._ He had that scowling look, like he wasn't happy that Neil was out there, trying to ride on _his_ name. Yeah, Neil was his kid, but he hadn't _raised_ him or anything. He had nothing to do with Neil, didn't even know Neil existed until... well, less than twenty four hours ago. Neil could imagine Dean just not liking it, feeling Neil was trying to steal from Dean. That he (Neil) was just assuming it was okay to take things like his last name, just because Neil and he shared blood, when in truth, Neil had never _earned_ it, and didn't _deserve_ it.

 _I'm just a kid,_ Neil thought. _I'm a kid, I'm not a cute little baby that can do whatever and nobody cares because I'm just so cute._ His friend Sam had a baby brother who cried, screamed, and just acted awful sometimes, but it was okay, because he was a baby and didn't know any better. Sam said he was annoying, but she never said it like she was that upset, because babies had excuses to be bad at things, they were babies.

Neil wasn't a baby. He was nine. He would be ten in January. He was too old to be given the, "It's okay, you're just a baby/little kid" pass. But he was still just a kid. He _did_ stupid things, he _said_ stupid things. But he was a big boy too, his Mom told him so all the time and big kids weren't supposed to do and say stupid things.

He thought of last night, of how he had asked Dean question after question as they headed home. Dean had been cool, Dean had answered all of them, but maybe he was just trying to be polite. Neil had probably been really annoying. After all, Dean and his mom were old friends, old boyfriend-girlfriend friends. They probably wanted to talk, and there was Neil, not cute Neil, but too-big-to-be-cute and too-young-to-be-cool, Neil, taking all the time, asking all the questions, acting like he _owned_ Dean or something, and that was when Neil didn't even know Dean was his father. He'd bet anything Dean was sitting right now, thinking, how he'd have to see Neil tonight and how uncool Neil was going to be, but how he'd have to be nice to him, because they were related, even though Dean never asked to be related to him.

He'd screw it up, he just knew it. Neil wasn't a constant screw up, normally he did okay, and if his father had been someone normal, or even someone cool like Jasper or Trey from WVW, even if it was someone _really_ cool, like Adam Cole or AJ Styles, Neil probably could have handled it, but this was Dean MOTHER FUCKING Ambrose (and yeah, he wasn't supposed to even _think_ those words, but muffin' stuffin' or any of those other words just wouldn't cut it) who was like the MASTER of not just cool, but AWESOME. How was Neil going to ever measure up? How was Neil ever going to get his own _father_ to like him?

 _I have to be cool,_ he thought. _I have to calm down. I can't act like I did last night. I have to stop asking so many questions. Oh god, he's coming over tomorrow to see my ring, my **stupid** ring. He's a professional, he fights in **real** rings, WWE rings, and he's coming over to see this one, which is just a toy I got for my birthday. I'll downplay it. I won't brag about it, maybe he forgot how much I bragged about it. If he says, 'This is nice,' like an adult would say, just to make a kid happy, I'll shrug like I know the score. 'Yeah, it's not that great, but it's okay.' That will work. I can do this. I can be cool, I can show him that I'm not an idiot like I was last night. I can show him that I deserve-that I deserve-_

_-to be his son._


End file.
